


Forever

by roseangel013



Series: Reader Interactive SPN [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angry John Winchester, Angst and Feels, BAMF Reader, Brother/Sister Incest, Bullying, Coping, Depression, Exposition, F/M, Female Reader, First Kiss, Heavy Angst, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, Making Out, Necklaces, Neglected reader, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV First Person, Parental Ellen, Platonic Bobby Singer & Reader, Platonic Dean Winchester & Reader, Platonic Jessica Moore & Reader, Platonic John Winchester & Reader, Pre-Series, Pre-Stanford, Protective Sam Winchester, Reader in Denial, Reader misses Sam too much, Reader wants to forget Sam, Reader-Insert, Running Away, Sad Reader, Sam Leaves for Stanford, Scars, Secret Relationship, Secrets, Slow Build, Stanford Era, Suicidal Thoughts, Tags Are Hard, Tags May Change, Winchester Coping Mechanisms, Young Sam Winchester, a new tag per chapter, depressed reader, hunter reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2018-07-16 08:26:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 11
Words: 39,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7260049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseangel013/pseuds/roseangel013
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My life has never been easy, no matter what anyone says. Since the day I was born my life has been one misfortune after the next. </p><p>You are the Winchester's little sister and you have an infatuation with one of your brothers that will take you past all your limits and tests your faith in both him and yourself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nobody Said It Was Easy

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this is one of those new things I told ya’ll I’d be working on over this summer. Don’t worry the other stories I have going are coming. I just have a LOT to type up. This is just one of those that got stuck in my head months ago and had me writing chapters for, this is chapter 1 of many, and they will be long. Like the chapter of Together, if you read that, if not longer. So if you get hooked on this, don’t expect regular updates due to the length, but I will try. But enjoy…
> 
> BTW: Pretty much every chapter of this story is titled after a song or song lyrics because I listen to a toy of music when I write because music is my inspiration, though the story is not based off either. (Chapter 1 is based off The Scientist by Coldplay though I personally prefer the Glee version) I changed the age Azazel came for Sam in order to make up for the age of the reader, who is 30 months younger than Sam.

My life has never been easy, no matter what anyone says. Since the day I was born my life has been one misfortune after the next.

When I was born, the doctors didn’t think I was gonna make it because of some anomaly they found in my brain. An adult that had developed this kind of problem would have been able to live without issue, but a newborn baby didn't stand a chance. Someone up top must have been looking out for me, though, because a few weeks later, John and Mary Winchester took home their miracle daughter. They had to take her home with a hell of a lotta of medication, but at least they got me home.

Home to a place where my brothers say I would have loved. A steady place in Lawrence, Kansas that we wouldn’t have had to worry about leaving for any reason. A place where we would have known and loved people and had friends who were _absolutely_ ordinary. A place where our parents didn’t have to worry about safety, be it from everyday people or the monsters under our beds. It was a home I didn't get the pleasure of getting to know.

On the eve of my brother’s two and a half birthday, a demon came in and ruined our lives forever. My mother had gotten up in the middle of the night to check on us, but what she found changed all our lives forever. The demon killed my mother and burned the home we were supposed to grow up and be a family in down to the ground.

At the time, Sam _– that’s my older brother –_ and I shared a bedroom because apparently, I would cry all night long if I was left alone. At first, my parents moved my crib into their room, thinking that would ease my discomfort and fears, but they soon realized one night when my crying still refused to cease and Sam was brought in, crying himself, that it was him that I really wanted. My dad placed the two of us side by side, and we immediately quieted down, much to the surprise of our parents.

They thought the two of us would be a handful being in the same room because if I started crying, I would wake Sammy. But never that happened. If anything, Sam seemed to sleep sounder with me in the room, and our parents found that to be a blessing. Same vise versa. But when the fire happened, it was anything but.

My crib was closer to the window, which was opposite of the door and Sam’s directly to the right of the door, which made him easier to get to when Dad rushed in. He gave Sammy to my eldest brother, Dean, and told him to get out as fast as he could while he tried to get to me.

The curtains over the window had been entirely engulfed in flames and dropped into my crib and burned my right shoulder down to my elbow pretty bad before Dad got me out. I still have the scars to this day as a reminder of what my family lost and how we will _never_ be normal ever again.

I was only eleven months old at the time, so it’s more like a memory from a past I wasn’t privy to and a morbid reminder of how I lost my mother. But I find myself looking at it more often than not because it’s the _only_ memory I have of her. Morbid or not.

Sam understands how I feel; that what I have isn’t something I take immense pride in having. At least not in the way that some of my family might think. He knows that the memories I have of then are extremely little to none and that this mark keeps me connected so that I don’t forget our mother, even if I don’t really remember enough to forget.

But not all my family thinks or feels the same way.

I watch the light leave Dean’s eyes anytime he catches a glimpse of the horrendous mark that I’m forced to bare. I know he doesn’t realize the faces he makes when he looks at them, how they make me feel like a freak both on the inside and out, because I’m sure he would stop if he did. Our father makes me wear long sleeve shirts and jackets to cover my arms _because_ he can’t look at it. I mean he doesn’t say that’s the reason, but I know that it is.

For the longest time after we left Lawrence, Dad couldn’t look at me because of the scars. He only held me when it was absolutely necessary, and pushed me off to Dean or whoever he could whenever he got the chance. Especially after he met Bobby.

I don’t know about Sam and Dean, but sometimes I feel like the older hunter is more of a real father to us than our _actual_ dad is, not that I’d ever say that to either of my brothers or the veteran hunter.

Dad met Bobby six months after the ‘incident,' and the older man was immediately taken with us. He hated Dad for leaving us for weeks at a time at his house without a word before coming back in the middle of the night to retrieve us, but that never stopped him from loving the three of us to death.

When we were with Bobby, he would play all kinds of games with us and teach us hunting techniques that even Dad had yet to learn. Dad would never let me hunt, though, only teaching me enough to defend myself because he always wanted my brothers to be with me, to protect me. He trusted Bobby to teach me everything there was to know about supernatural creatures so that the boys would be able to kill them with ease.

Bobby thought that was bullshit, so he trained me when Dad left me and took the boys with him _– something else that pissed the more experienced hunter off about John Winchester, like he needed another reason to resent the man –_ and would sometimes even take me on small salt and burns to give me some field experience.

Bobby treats me like a person. An equal. Dad treats me like some fragile porcelain doll, and the worst thing about that is he taught Dean to do the same.

There was a time when I younger that I would ask questions about vampires and werewolves and the boogeyman. This was just after Dean accidentally spilt the beans about the monsters under my bed being real, yelling it out in frustration after I kept telling him I was scared of the monsters in the horror movies he would watch late at night when we were all supposed to be asleep _– Dad really kicked his ass for that one, and not just metaphorically speaking._ _Not just because of the late night monster movie marathons; he did it way worse than when the eldest Winchester child told Sam –_ and neither Dad nor Dean would discuss the subject with me after that. Either getting mad or blatantly ignoring me.

It wouldn’t be until I got older that I would understand why they did that. But being a ten-year-old with your father and oldest brother blowing up in your face and acting like you don’t exist every time you asked them a question isn’t very encouraging or comforting. I thought that they didn’t like me _– Dad, because I wasn’t a boy like Sam and Dean who didn’t get scared of the monsters in movies and was too young and a was morbid reminder of the love of his life whom he had lost so tragically, and Dean because I got him in trouble with Dad, and the same reminder, except it was his mother –_ but Sammy says that was never the case. And I’m inclined to believe him.

Sam has never steered me the wrong way. He tells me things how they are and makes sure the things Bobby teaches me never fade. He kept mine and Bobby’s secret when he found out about it, reassuring me that Dad and Dean would never find out because he agreed it was necessary and that I deserve better and comforts me when my thoughts turn sour due to the way I’m treated by the rest of my family.

Sam has always said those types of things to me. He makes me feel more special than any person ever has; he has taken on the unofficial role as my guardian and protector. Whenever people at school talk about me and my scars, Sam is always there to defend me and kick the ass of anyone who isn’t smart enough to back the fuck off. He stands up to Dad for me whenever I can’t do so for myself, which is pretty much always.

But with all of this, he sees that I need something else because it can’t go on forever. So he teaches me to defend myself and stand up for myself as well. He does more for me than Dean and Dad combined.

He makes sure I keep up with my school work when we move and take my medicine on a regular basis, even though as the years go on it gets more and more evident to me that it isn't his job.

Even when we were younger, Dad was the one who needed to make sure to keep track of my meds, but no. Sammy took charge in that department, as well as pretty much every other one that had to deal with me. He did it because he knew that if he didn't, no one else likely would have, and I love him for it.

He is my light in the dark. My safe haven. And it doesn’t surprise me in the slightest when I find myself falling for him.

In my heart of hearts, I know that the feelings I have developed for Sam are more than what a sister should feel towards her brother. Like I said, that doesn’t surprise me in the slightest, but the more I think about it and consider Sam and how he might think about it, the thought of what might happen to us if he doesn’t reciprocate my feelings freaks me out worse than anything has in my whole life. And one day to make it all worse, _Sam notices_.

“What’s wrong (Y/N/N)?” He asks, his face showing nothing less than concern. I’m sitting on the bed closest to the bathroom door, where Sam has just emerged from behind, having been taking a shower.

Today is one of those days where Dean and Dad left the two of us at the motel while the two of them went to handle a hunt a few hours away, and with Sam almost being sixteen, Dad figured he could handle a thirteen-year-old me by himself for a little while. Dean had done it for years before, with both Sam and I as his charges.

I don’t see him frown at my flinch to his touch after he comes over to the bed when I don’t respond to his question, what with my face being buried in my arms which are wrapped around my knees on the bed.

“(Y/N),” He says more cautiously this time, and I can hear the small tinge of fear in his voice, and I suddenly feel guilty for acting this way, and he has no idea why.

“I’m fine Sammy,” I say, my voice as calm and level as I can make it, but that isn’t good enough because even I hear the quiver and potential for tears coming on.

I feel the bed dip as Sam sits all the way down in front of me, but he doesn’t touch me, probably fearful it may set me off, which isn’t untrue.

“Please talk to me.” His tone is desperate, not use to his little sister not telling him all her problems so he can handle them and make her feel better. He is especially not used to her flinching away from his touch, and it makes him wonder what he did wrong.

“I’m sorry,” He says after a moment of silence, and I can’t help myself when my head shoots up to look at him in confusion. “Whatever I did, I didn’t mean it, and I’m sorry, (Y/N/N). Tell me how I can make it better.”

Immediately, I feel the tears I didn’t even realize were forming, fall down my cheeks at his words. Classic Sammy, always thinking that something or another has something to do with him; the pain in his voice breaks my heart.

I launch myself into his arms and cry into his shoulder.

“No, Sammy! It’s not your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s all me. M-my fault.” He tenses up at my sudden movement, but instantly snaps out of it and wraps his arms around me as I start to cry hysterically and ramble to the point where my words come out completely incoherent.

He just sits there and holds me on the bed as I continue to sob and cry for however long. This isn’t the first time this has actually happened _– us sitting around as he holds me while I cry, I mean._

One day in 2nd grade, this group of kids picked on me and made fun of my scars when one of them pushed me to the ground at recess and my sweater ripped.

Sam was in 4th grade at the time, and the older kids hadn’t been outside yet, so I had to fend for myself. What I did was run into the building and hide in one of the janitor’s closets and cried.

The teachers tore up the school looking for me, going so far as putting the building into lockdown to find me. None of them did, though. Sam did.

One of the girls in his class saw the fight _– not that you could really call it that –_ with the other kids and me and told Sam he thought I might be the one everyone was looking for because she saw me running away, crying.

Sam had waited until his teacher wasn’t paying attention to go looking for me. It didn’t take him long because he could hear me crying when he turned a corner. He got into the closet with me instead of trying to get me out after seeing how distraught I was, and sat and held me until Dean opened the door, the principle having called Dad after no one could find me.

Neither of us got in trouble for what happened because I had explained to Sam who explained to Dad what happened, but Sam did get in trouble for yelling at Dad when he told me to fight back next time instead of running away. That was the day Sam decided to become my protector and guardian because he felt Dad wasn’t doing a good enough job. Dad never holds me while I cry. Sam does. Like now.

He waits until my cries and sobs have died down to small hiccups and stuttered breathing before he addresses what I said.

“(Y/N), what do you mean it’s you? What’s your fault?” His voice is low and as soothing as he can make it so as not to get me going again.

I don’t actually know if I want to tell him my thoughts. He more than likely doesn’t feel the same way because what guy has a crush on his little sister?

No. He would probably tell Dad who would kick me out or send me to Bobby and never see me again. Bobby might keep me out of pity, but he would look at me in disgust and hate me too.

Or, best case scenario, Sam would take pity on me and not tell anyone, but he would never be able to look at me the same way ever again. He would distance himself from me and eventually see the freak I know everyone else does, and that would be the worst thing that could ever happen. The _worst_ , worst case scenario.

I don’t even know what I would do if I lost Sam. He’s my brother and my best friend. I would much rather keep what we have now as oppose to losing him to something that I know can never be.

I squeeze him tighter in response, not wanting to say anything, but knowing I had to after all of this. And Sam doesn’t push me. He patiently waits for me to pull back and meet his warm hazel eyes with my own.

Those same eyes that hold so much compassion whenever their gaze is upon me. The way they change colors depending on the light and sometimes even the mood of their owner. I may see those same green-hazel eyes in the mirror every day, but Sam’s have always been so much livelier than mine. They have this ability to pull you in and just…

Before I know what I’m doing, I have leaned forward, closing the distance between us until our lips are touching.

I almost immediately realize what I have done and when I do, I tense up and notice that Sam has done the same.

I go to pull away from him, embarrassed out of my mind and wanting just to die _– debatable and to be heavily considered when I bolt far away from here –_ but before I can move farther than an inch, Sam pulls me back in for my _first_ earth shattering kiss.

This time around, the shock wears off almost immediately, and we are kissing each other as though the other is going to disappear into thin air.

I don’t know how long this will last so I take the time to document the moment mentally. His hand has moved into my hair, and it feels really warm and is extremely comforting. His lips are as soft as I thought they would be, not chapped like I know mine probably feel. He has to have done this before because he is moving with a grace and flow that I don’t have _– I’m trying not to envy the girl(s) he practiced this with._

Sam is the one to pull back after a while of our lips merely moving together. My eyes are still closed as I release the breath I hadn’t realized I had been holding. I put my hand up to my lips as if the pads of my fingers can mimic the feeling of Sam’s lips.

That was not how I had heard kisses to be described by girls at school. They all talk about how dirty their boyfriends kiss them. Lots of tongue and little of anything else. More like them eating each other’s faces is what it sounds like to me.

But the way Sam just kissed me was nothing like that. It was sweet and innocent, like in one of the kisses in those romcoms I catch Dean watching sometimes. I’m not saying I don’t want to be kissed like those girls at school boyfriends’ kiss them, but that was a nice first kiss.

When I open my eyes, Sam is staring at me with slight apprehension, but there is something else in his eyes that is fiery and full of want and… _is that what desire looks like?_

I smile slowly at him, and the apprehension instantly disappears, replaced with relief as a smile appears to mirror my own.

“You have no idea how long I have wanted to do that,” Sam says as he moves a few loose strands of hair behind my ear; I can’t help but nuzzle into his hand, so familiar with his familiar touch.

“Seriously?” I ask through a flustered smile.

“For a while now, but I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, and I was so scared it would ruin our relationship if I told you. I mean what kind of freak tells his little sister that he thinks of her more than a sister?”

I narrow my eyes in disdain at the word choice Sam uses to describe himself. He’s _anything but_ a freak. Sometimes I hear people from his school call him names like that, but he never says anything back. He keeps walking with me down the street to my middle school until someone says something about me. Only then does Sam react.

He nearly beat this one boy’s face in when he saw him push me on the ground on his way to get me from school one day. Dean had to physically remove him before he broke the boy’s jaw. That made him kind of a hero in my eyes, though the level of violence was a bit over the top, but that shouldn’t have deemed him a freak. A lot of kids are overprotective of their little siblings, even Dean is, and even more have anger management problems.

That’s not how the students at both the middle and high school saw it, though. Some were scared of him, while others glared in hatred at his actions. But still Sam didn’t react, and people knew he wouldn’t unless someone messed with me. So no one in that town bothered me, picking on Sam instead, well, the bolder ones anyways.

I never knew Sam took all of that stuff personally until now.

Apart from the mixed emotions about the name calling, I just want to scream; I’m so happy and relieved. Here I am, freaking out about how negatively Sam would react if I told him how I feel and he has been doing the exact thing for God knows how long.

“Wait, is that why you were crying? You thought I was gonna get mad at you or something?” I don’t respond verbally, but something on my face must tell Sam all he needs to know because realization spreads across his face, with his eyes hardening as a hint of sadness, anger, and self-hatred flashes through his eyes all at the same time.

I can relate to that. I hated myself too for my emotions when I realized them. I guess the two of us are more alike than I thought.

“I didn’t believe that you would feel or even think the same way I did. Like you said,” I look up shyly at him, unable to hold eye contact for more than a few seconds at a time. “what kind of freak thinks of their sibling that way?”

Something flashes through Sam’s eyes for a split second before they soften and it’s gone, and they’re back to the loving orbs they normally are as he speaks, “I guess we’ll just be freaks together.” His words make me smile and giggle as he leans down to kiss me again.


	2. Mister Movin' On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You thought it was all talk, just a dream. Turns out Sam's making his dream a reality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn’t actually plan on posting anything again so soon, but I got so many good reviews and people kept asking for another chapter that I had to get this out. But chapter 3 is still in the making because it, along with chapters 4 and 5, which have also been written, is being rewritten. The BTW explains a bit more. But avengers4thewin, this chapter is for you. Enjoy…
> 
> BTW: This story started off going in another direction entirely when I first started writing it, like most of my stories do, and I had to rewrite some of the chapters when the idea changed to what it is now, so forgive me if it seems as though some of the information repeats itself or the plot seems to sit on top of another. I literally kept all of what was already there and added some other things here and there to adjust to the current thought.
> 
> This chapter is titled after Miss Movin’ On by Fifth Harmony.

The relationship between Sam and I is so much better after that night. We realized that pining after each other for all this time caused us to miss out on so much that we now have. Well, I guess that depends on how you look at it.

Now that I’m in high school, Sam walks to class every day like any other boyfriend _– big brother to everyone else –_ would, and is waiting right outside the door when the bell rings. He carries my bag and books _– much to my annoyance at times, “I didn’t become some invalid when I became your girlfriend Sammy!” “Haha, I know (Y/N/N), can’t I just like doing things for my girl?” –_ and sits with me at lunch, and no one seems to notice how close we sit, what with us being siblings.

A part of me knows that even if that night hadn’t happened, Sam and I would still have this same routine now, just without the taboo, inside joke that actually makes our lives so much more exciting. I mean people know we’re brother and sister because that’s how we’re introduced when we move to a new town, and to see them all squirm and look so uncomfortable with the way Sam and I move around each other sometimes. After all the years of criticism and unjustified hate towards the two of us as individuals is just so damn satisfying.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that any of them know about our secret, but judging by the looks of disgust and the harsh whispers paired with the judgmental glances whenever we walk by, obviously people don’t miss much. Or they _really_ don’t have much time on their hands besides spreading nasty rumors about the new kids that may or may not be true. It’s been happening all our lives, the only difference this time is, it’s true. Not that we care.

Sometimes I wonder if we’re being too obvious, but we can’t be that much if Dean and Dad haven’t picked up on it yet. And trust me when I say they would say something if they had.

When the two of them are in the room, it’s no different from before. We all act normally _– well as normally as the Winchesters can –_ and time moves on the same. But when the oldest Winchesters leave, be it for a hunt or dinner or a drink or whatever, we are on each other like the hormonal teenagers we are.

Sorry, that probably brought up some pretty suggestive thoughts. Well, _overly_ suggestive thoughts. I only meant making out and light groping. Sam and I have never moved past the basics. My Sammy has been quite the gentleman and never pressured me into doing anything I’m uncomfortable with, always immediately stopping when he can sense my discomfort and hesitation. After that, things slow down until we’re simply lying on the bed, just talking.

“One day, I’m gonna get us out of here,” He says one night.

I giggle as he continues to stroke my hair calmly. “If you’re tired of being cooped up in the room, we could always go for ice cream or something.”

“If that’s what you want, but that’s not what I meant.”

I shift my head up to look at his face, confusion slowly spreading across mine. “Wha-”

“I mean this life (Y/N). I want to get us, _you_ , as far away from all of this as possible, and into a better, normal one. The one we should’ve had before…” He doesn’t finish the sentence, and he doesn’t really need to.

I may not have any memories of our mother, but Sam does. Albeit not as many as Dean, but Sam does remember enough to be able to miss her as a person, the person who gave birth to him, not just hold on to some twisted deformity as a result of her last living, breathing moments. Talking about this is harder on him than it is on me, and I’m kinda glad he didn’t finish that thought because I hate seeing him in pain. Always have.

“What about Dad and Dean?” I can’t help but ask.

Sam sighs, apparently having put some thought into that. “Dad would never let us leave, and Dean would never go against Dad. Plus, he’s too invested in this life. I don’t actually think Dean would know how to live a life aside from this one. But you and me, we can get out of here and start over. Together.”

The desperation in his voice tells me that his speech might have been more for his benefit than to persuade me. He needs this a lot, apparently, and I intend to support him in whatever he does, because I would follow my big brother anywhere.

Dad will probably try to stop us, and Dean would probably be devastated, but with Sammy by my side, I can’t bring myself to care. He’s always been here, and he promises that he always will be.

_Until he isn’t anymore._

* * *

 

In the summer of 2002, I stay with Bobby because Dad decided to take Sam and Dean on back to back hunts since Sam had graduated that May and he didn’t want me to get hurt _– he still doesn’t know about what I do with Bobby after all these years –_ even though I’m fifteen, simply thirty-one months younger than Sam, who also turned eighteen in May. Hell, I'll be sixteen on my next birthday, Sam and Dean had started hunting long before this point even if one of them had to stay at the motel with me half the time, but do I get to go on a summer-long hunting trip. Hell fucking no I don't.

I don’t know where I would be if Bobby hadn’t taught me almost everything I know about hunting _– both physically and knowledge wise –_ and the supernatural. Since we have been at this for the past six years, there isn’t much more he can teach me, unfortunately.

I know about all the exorcisms and banishing spells and rituals there are to know. I know how to use just about any and every weapon there is to use against anything he has ever heard of, even some things he knows don’t exist anymore.

 _“You never know when some idjit might resurrect one of these bastards and start the apocalypse.”_ He told me one day when I was eleven, teaching me about some ancient monster I couldn’t even pronounce the name of that hadn’t been sighted in over two thousand years after I had gotten bored and asked him why it was relevant that I know all of this tedious information _– no wonder Sam and Dean don’t have to do this. I mean I like research at times because there is always something you don’t know about everything, but sometimes it seems I needed a reminder of that_. We knew it was unlikely to happen, but if it did ever happen, better safe than sorry. Besides, I knew my dad didn't know about any of this stuff, so I might as well know it in secret, so if it did come back one day, I could be the good daughter I am and help out where I'm supposed to. Or not, in this case.

Lying is a God given talent in the Winchester family, so there isn’t much to be taught in that department, but I try not to lie when I don’t have to. It just makes me nervous and uncomfortable. I hate when people lie to me, so lying to them makes me feel like a hypocrite, but I know that it’s a necessity in this life more times than not.

I’ve been lying to my father long enough for me to no longer feel so bad about it anymore though because…it’s a necessity. I would rather lie to him about the reality I’ve been living that he’s too in denial to realize is necessary for my survival. I mean were hunters for god sakes! I don’t need the constant protection of my brothers, that he’s so convinced will be around forever, to protect me. He wouldn’t give me the proper goddamn training that Bobby has been providing me in his place. That was his job as a father, not Bobby's. To make sure I was, not only safe but that I could also take care of myself, not be looked after like some princess. That's not the life we live. The sooner he realizes that, the better off we'll all be. Not that I'd ever dare to say to his face.

If it weren't for Bobby, Dad’s plan would have played out perfectly because he sure as hell didn’t plan for Sammy to up and leave one fateful August afternoon.

Dean comes to get me from Sioux Falls in the first week of August, and when I see him, I immediately know he is trying to hide something from me. The big, charming smile on his face is the same from any other time he goes extended periods of time without seeing me, but the distress and unrest in his eyes tells an entirely different story.

I try to ask him what’s wrong, but he just brushes me off by asking me about my time with Bobby, and that makes me even more nervous.

We drive for a total of thirteen hours, talking about what we had done in our time apart while listening to Dean’s favorites and some of mine on occasion. He always avoids talking about Dad and Sam as much as he can whenever I try to bring them up, and it makes me worry if something happened. But I don’t let Dean see that.

If there is nothing my brother is good at, it’s picking up on ANY negative vibes coming from Sam or I. It’s like his superpower ever since Mom died. Sam once told me that Dean would stay by my crib whenever I had a nightmare because he could sense the distress radiating off me. And here I thought my oldest brother hated me when in all actuality he was just really scared for me.  He must get that from Dad.

When Sam told me that, I looked at him like he was crazy, but then I noticed the looks the older Winchesters sent my way when they thought I wasn’t paying attention, full of worry and fear of what they thought might happen to me _– maybe a repeat of my mother’s fate, perhaps something worse –_ I don’t really know what it was, I’m just glad to know they care so much.

Usually, I can’t get Dean to shut up about whatever happened with Sammy and Dad while I was away, but now he’s avoiding them like the plague. And the closer we get to our destination, the more worried he seems to get.

We arrive at the motel in Mesa, Colorado just after dark. Apparently, the boys just finished up hunting a pack of werewolves just before Dean came to get me.

As Dean pulls into the parking space in front of the door marked 16B, I can’t help but let out a long, deep sigh.

“Home sweet motel,” I say with a voice full of sarcasm, causing Dean to chuckle lightly as the two of us get out of the Impala.

Since Dean insists on grabbing my bag from the trunk _– not that I’m complaining –_ I make my way towards the room, where the other two Winchester boys are currently.

Just as I get to the door, before I can even turn the doorknob, I hear yelling from the other side. I can’t understand what they 're saying exactly, but the volume and hostility in their tones tells me that whatever it is can’t be good.

Sam and Dad have never really seen eye to eye on quite a few topics, mostly hunting and anything having to do with a normal life. While Dad is on the hunt for the thing that killed the love of his life, he doesn’t know that Sammy secretly wants out of the life. I’m not actually sure if Dean even knows yet.

Sammy and I have always told each other everything. His dream to one day leave the life being a constant topic of discussion between the two of us, but a small part of me thought that was just that. A _dream_.

As soon as the door opens, my dad pushes past me, obviously having already been on his way out. His apology to me is just as quick and offhanded as his greeting as he continues his journey to the Impala; Dean immediately surrenders the keys to him without a single question.

I wouldn’t say anything either with the intensity of hostility radiating off him in waves and pouring just as steadily out of the motel room.

As the Impala pulls out of the motel parking lot and tears down the street Dean and I just came down, I only stand there watching along with Dean, long until it’s out of view. It isn’t until I feel a hand on my shoulder that I remember Sam had been in the room as well.

“Hey (Y/N/N),” He says, pulling me into a tight hug; it’s then I feel truly at home.

Hugs from my Sammy are always soothing; one might even say homey because he is always warming to the core and loving. Even Dean’s hugs don’t feel like this. It’s strictly a Sam thing. One hug from him could cure any discomfort or worry I feel.

“Hey, Sammy,” I mumble contently into his chest, pulling back enough to look into his eyes.

Our eyes are almost the exact same color, and entirely different from Dad and Dean’s. Where they have vibrant greens that are guarded more times than not, only showing emotions when absolutely necessary or when they slip up. Sam and I have eyes that never seem to want to stay one shade, and are usually bright and full of life _– he tells me that mine are more so than his, but I don’t believe him for a second –_ which is much needed in this lifestyle.

But now, Sam’s eyes are sad, and though I can tell his smile is there because he is genuinely happy to see me, there is something else there, I can’t put my finger on just what it is.

My brothers are always putting on masks for me. Thinking I need to be sheltered from the true horrors they face, even though that’s simply the life we live. They don’t want me to tarnish my image of them with fear or sadness or anger. I guess they have yet to realize that they are my family and I could never see them for less than what they are. But if that gives them peace of mind at the end of the day, then who am I to take that away from them?

“What’s wrong, Sammy?” I ask lightly, placing my hand on his cheek and he leans into the touch, a sigh of content escaping him.

He doesn’t answer me at first, the two of us standing off to the side of the motel room’s door. Dean passes us, into the room, placing my bag down next to his.

“I’m going to the bar down the street. Tell Dad I’ll be back later if he gets back before me.” He says on his way back out. I nod and Sam grunts in affirmation.

Once Dean is gone, I pull away from Sam, but he doesn’t let go of me, causing me to look back up at him.

“Let’s go inside Sammy,” I say as the clouds above us begin to rumble, pregnant with unshed raindrops. I can’t help but hope Dean gets to the bar before it starts coming down.

Sam doesn’t say anything, just letting me pull him into the motel room the three Winchester men have been occupying for the past two weeks, from what Dean told me; it shows.

There are newspaper clippings all over the wall opposite the beds with dozens of different color string that connect to various pictures and articles. The beds are unmade, and the couch still has the sheet, blanket, and pillow all across it and the floor next to it. Whichever of them slept in it was obviously in a hurry to get up. There are also wrappers and cups from numerous restaurants the boys went to scattered all about the room.

Sure, Bobby’s place is messy, but that’s clutter, not junk. You can navigate through that and find pretty much whatever you’re looking for in there. Not the same case here.

“You guys just can’t survive one day without reverting back to your nasty, primitive male ways while the only girl is gone, can you?”

I’m not really excepting an answer from Sam, but he chuckles lightly anyway with a mumbled “yeah” slipping past his lips as well.

“Y’all better pray I don’t go anywhere anytime soon or else you’ll lose your heads. None of you would be able to find anything without me.” I say as I begin picking up the wrappers and cups off the copy table in front of the couch, Sam having let me go once we entered the room.

“Actually (Y/N), I need to talk to you about –”

“Sammy,” I say, holding up a piece of paper in my hands that reads ‘Congratulations! It is with great pleasure that I offer you admission to Stanford University Class of 2006.’ as the first two lines with a school insignia in the top center of the page. It couldn’t be what I think it is even though it’s _printed_ pretty clearly, but I have to ask anyway. “What is this?”

I turn around to look at him, holding up the document in question in my hand, but the look on his face he already knows what I’m referring to.

“It’s an acceptance letter. To Stanford University.” He answers quietly, his voice matching the hopeful yet worried look on his face. Not exactly the look you typically see on the face of someone who just got into one of the best schools in the country. Not unless an adverse reaction is expected.

That’s probably why Dean left now that I think about it. He expects me to blow up at Sam like Dad most likely did. He had to deal with the fallout and the drama of that once already, and probably didn’t want to do it again. Not that I blame him. When Sam and Dad get into it, the situation tends to escalate pretty quickly.

The room is silent for the longest time before Sam apparently decides he can’t take it anymore.

“Say something (Y/N/N),” He pleads so softly that I almost don’t hear him over the rain now pouring down outside, while at the same time he’s trying to keep as much of the anxiety out of his voice, though the look in his eyes gives that away.

“When did you get this?” I ask, my voice not giving anything away.

Sam knows me better than any living person ever could, which means that he’s cautious, knowing that the neutral question still means things could go either way with us.

“A couple of days ago. I applied in April, a few weeks before you left actually, but I didn’t want to tell anyone _– you –_ until I knew whether or not I got in.” Sam doesn’t make a move toward me all the while he speaks, though I can tell he wants to. _Desperately_. So he keeps talking to curb the urge. “The school gave me a full scholarship and paid for practically everything else.”

He continues to go on about how he went online and found his dorm and schedule for classes and I listen to bits and pieces, but apparently, I zone out because his next are incredibly shocking to me.

“All of that makes it easier for when I get you up out there with me.”

My head snaps up at his words. At first, I’m not sure if I heard him right, but the smile on his face that he is trying and failing to conceal tells me that I did.

“Why do you look so surprised? I told you a long time ago that I would get us out of this life. You didn’t believe me?” His words are playful, but I can still hear the hurt he’s trying to mask.

“Um…in all honesty, I didn’t Sammy, no.” I watch his face fall slightly at my lack of faith in him, his puppy eyes coming out full force to further increase my guilt.

“Well, now we don’t have to live like this anymore.” He says, taking my hands in his, regardless of my previous words. “We can finally get out of here and have that apple pie life I promised you. I will go to Stanford for a little while, normalize myself with the school and everything, then I will come get you from wherever you are during Thanksgiving break and take you back with me. I don’t want to leave you for so long, but once you’re there, we’ll never have to worry about leaving each other again.”

His words are so sincere, and it makes me want to believe everything he’s telling me, but me and my stupid, overactive brain can’t help but imagine everything that could go wrong this ‘idea.'

What happens if Dad doesn’t let me leave when Sam comes for me? Or even if he will let Sam when he sees him? With the way he stormed out of here earlier, he already seems to be done with Sam. What if the only way he will let me go is if he has to find out about Sam and me? I mean, what could be so important that I would leave all the family I have left in the world for what I know Dad sees as a disgrace big brother like Sam? Maybe we could spin it off as a big brother getting his little sister out of a life neither of us ever wanted. I could see that working, but what about Dean?

Dean would be devastated if he found out he was losing both his baby brother and sister in the span of a couple of months. The two people he has dedicated his life to protecting just up and leaving him without a purpose? _As if I didn’t feel bad enough already._

It took me this long to figure out how much I matter to him, so now I know just how hard he’s gonna take all of this. Hell, Sam hasn’t even left yet, and he’s already started his own form of coping which I know I’m going to have to deal with for the next handful of months. Leaving for hours on end, going to bars to get wasted and laid _– of course not wasted enough to miss a call from Dad_ when _he gets one._ Though that’s not very different from Dean now, it will have an entirely different motive behind it now. I don’t think I have the heart to know that I am the cause of someone’s pain. Especially Dean’s.

I want to be excited for Sam. The fact that he was willing to take me with him should make me love him even more, and I’m sure a part of me does, but now that I think about it, I don’t think I’m ready for this.

I don’t want things to change. Our lives may be hectic and oh so imperfect and fucked up at times, but we've always had one thing constant apart from each other. Family.

My entire life, it has always been me, my dad, and my brothers. It’s all I know. And now Sam is just gonna leave all of it behind. All of us. I know he doesn’t see it like that because he’s leaving _me_ behind. I just don’t think I can handle that.

But I’d _never_ tell Sam that.

He’s been talking about getting out of this life for as long as I can remember. He has always made phenomenal grades in school, even with all the moving around we do. He encouraged me to make the same grades too, even though I had to struggle to keep up _– now it kind of makes sense why he wanted me to do that._ For this move, maybe he wants me to be able to go to college just like him and make something of myself too. His determination after all these years has brought him here. Us, I guess.

What kind of sister/girlfriend would I be if I told him to stay because I didn’t want to go and couldn’t watch him walk away? Because I didn’t want to deal with the monumental changes that I knew would come with his departure?

Say he did stay though, I don’t think I would be able to live with knowing that I ruined a life, a once in a lifetime opportunity for a hunter that isn’t even granted to all of them, to get out of the life all because I couldn’t handle being the cause of Dean’s pain, or my own for that matter. And Sam did this for me too, not just himself. He told me so. How ungrateful am I being?

So, no. That isn’t fair to Sammy. Not after all he’s done for us. Dad, Dean, and I will just have to deal the best we can. Plus, I may not want to leave, but I promised Sam I would follow him anywhere. College is technically anywhere.

So with as much excitement as I can muster, I look Sam in his eyes and say, “Ok Sammy,” I let a not so fake giggle escape my lips as I fully realize what I just committing to, the giggle one part surprise at the words and two parts nerves.

Sam is apparently taken by surprise at my words as well because it shows all over his face.

“What?” Sam says, trying and failing to keep his excitement at bay, not wanting to get his hopes up in case I’m just yanking his chain, which I’m not. “Say that again (Y/N).”

All of a sudden I’m overwhelmed with tears, still in conflict with myself internally and knowing this my final chance to change my mind, but I know I won’t.

“I said, I’ll go, Sammy,” By now, I have a full blown smile on my face as I accept the fate I have chosen for myself; the smile just as wide, if not wider than my own makes its way onto Sam’s face. “For you, I’ll go.”

Sam leans forward, placing both hands on my face to wipe away my tears, before catching my lips in a passionate kiss that is just _so Sam_.

Our lips move together, in tandem with each other, our tongues entangled in what I can only describe as a lover’s forbidden dance _– if that’s a real thing –_ it’s then that I realize that this is the first kiss Sam and I have shared in 14 weeks, and likely the last we’ll share until late November at the absolute earliest.

That thought alone causes more tears to pour down my cheeks and mix with Sam’s, who was apparently thinking the same thing and our kiss gets that much more desperate. Because we know we need to make this kiss count. Put every emotion, every fear and worry, every desire and craving we have into it, so we have something to remember each other by for the next however long. Because we know anything could happen in the meantime to either cancel or delay our reunion, so we treat this kiss like it’s our last because it very well could be.

When we finally pull away for air, we only pull back far enough to rest our foreheads together so we can gaze lovingly into each other’s tear glazed eyes. A while back, I realized that this one of my favorite embraces because it’s so intimate. As intimate as we’ve gotten at least.

“I will go with you, Sam. As long as you don’t forget about me until we meet again.”

Sam moves back far enough to take something out of his back pocket that I notice is a silver heart necklace. I smile at him as he places it on me, moving a cluster of hair out of my face and hair out from under my new necklace. As he does this, I look down and notice the words _‘You will forever’_ are engraved into the side and the letter _‘S’_ into the middle of the necklace.

“I would never forget about you (Y/N). You’re everything to me and so much more.” With that, Sam places another, more chaste kiss to my lips and I cherish the feeling for just a little while longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> R&R please!!!


	3. Leave Me Lonely

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Sam leaves for Stanford, the rest of the Winchester family has to cope with the loss of a family member.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is gonna be a long chapter. I don’t know if I should apologize or tell you guys you’re welcome. At the end of the day it doesn’t really matter. Just know that this is a long chapter that may or may not, not be in chronological order. I kept noticing as I wrote that there were subjects that I brought up and didn’t really do anything with, so I had to tie them back in somewhere later in the chapter, so that’s the reason for that. Also, I don’t remember if I told you guys that I already started writing this a while back and have up until chapter 5 done, but didn’t like where it was going, so I’m rewriting it to where I do like it. But all chapter stories of mine start off as hard copies, so it takes me a while to rewrite them then type them up, that’s why it takes so long to post actually. Thought you might want to know so you didn’t think I was slacking or something. Again, irrelevant…anyway, enjoy…
> 
> BTW: Also if I didn’t tell you, this is probably going to be a pretty long story because most future chapters will be similar in length to this one.
> 
> This chapter is based off Ariana Grande’s Leave Me Lonely. I love her new album. I have listened to it on repeat since it came out.

Life after Sam leaves isn’t as difficult or easy as I thought it would be. Though it’s _definitely_ not the same. Actually, I take that back. Life after Sam left is hard. And there is a reason for that. Several depending on how you look at it.

**_(That Night)_ **

_Sam pulls away from me after our second kiss and puts a little more space between the two of us than the last kiss. Both_ _of our tears have dried and have been replaced with smiles of excitement at Sam’s accomplishment, and also excited about my new necklace._

_“I love it, Sammy,” I say as I pick it up and inspect it in my hands, a broad smile on my face. “I’m never gonna take it off.”_

_“Is that a promise?” He says it playfully, but I can see the hint of genuine curiosity in his eyes._

_“Never,” I say with a  goofy smile on my face and Sam can’t help but smile too._

_“I thought you would like it.” He says as he watches me with pure love in his eyes. “I got myself something too.”_

_I immediately look to his chest where his necklace should be but am instantly confused when I don’t see one. His chuckle makes me look at his face. As opposed to giving me verbal clarification, Sam shows me his wrist where an engraved bracelet sits._

_“‘You will forever_ be my always… _’” I complete with a smile on my face so wide that my face actually hurts. “That makes more sense.” I also see that his has a(n) (Y/I) engraved in the center as well and assume that they must be our initials._

_Sam chuckles one more time as I kiss him over and over again, thanking him for my gift. I know he got it so that neither of us would forget the other for whatever time we would be apart, and I couldn’t help but think it was the perfect gift. It spoke volumes about I felt our relationship, and judging by the word choice, so did Sam._

_“Ok, back to this whole college thing. This is unbelievable Sammy. I am so proud of you.” I say as I pull away from him after placing one more quick kiss to his smiling face before I continue on my way, moving around and picking stuff up and reorganizing the room back around to what it was probably supposed to look like before the boys got there._

_“Thanks (Y/N). Dad didn’t seem to feel the same way, and regardless of what Dean says, I know he’s just as upset as Dad, though obviously not in the same way. Bottom line, I’m glad someone understands how I feel.”_

_I look up at him from what I'm doing, picking up dirty clothes off the bathroom floor, something I’ve hated since forever. Not like anyone likes picks up their father and brothers’ dirty underwear._

_“Dad’s just so caught up with finding the thing that killed Mom. You leaving probably feels like he’s losing another piece of her.” I try to defend our father like I always do after the two have a tiff._

_“But he isn’t losing anyone. I’m just going to college. You know most parents are thrilled when they find out their kids are going to college, especially ones that are offering full rides. He needs to understand that we can’t stay this small, complicated, dysfunctional hunting family forever. I mean this isn’t normal.”_

_“You’re right Sam. Our lives aren’t_ normal _, so I don’t see why you’re trying so hard to be something you’re not.”_

_I look past Sam in shock, not even noticing that both Dad and Dean are standing in the doorway to the motel room. I can immediately feel the anger and hostility from earlier when Dean and I arrived from Bobby’s begin to fill the room once more. I already know based on Dad’s stiff posture and Sam’s defensive stance that this conversation isn’t gonna end well. My hand instantly goes to my necklace, and I stealthily hide it under the collar of my shirt, not that it matters because no one in the room’s attention is on me._

_“Maybe I want to be normal, or at least try. Not like you ever encouraged any of us to try to be anything in the vicinity of normal. I mean you won’t even let (Y/N) anywhere near an actual, hands on hunt, but you want her to excel in supernatural knowledge. If you ask me, I think you’re just mad your shot at normal is over!” Sam yells in Dad’s face; the glares they direct at each other are so inimical if looks could kill, both of them would be nothing more than a pile of ashes._

_But the really scary thing about this entire conversation_ – if you could actually call Sam yelling at Dad a conversation – _is that Dad hasn’t said a word in response, but when he does, I wish he hadn’t._

 _“You want to be normal so bad Sam?” He walks around the tallest of us all, now between Sam and I, and that makes me all the more nervous because every fiber of my being is telling me to run and cling to Sam and never let him go. And I might not do that, but I do walk around the pair, to stand in front of the door, fearful that this verbal argument might progress into something much worse, my hand on the place where my necklace is now under my shirt the entire time. But Dad walks past Sam, going to grab his bag from the bed, next to mine. “Then go. Be_ normal _.”_

_His words take us all by surprise; I can see the sadness mixed in with the anger in Sam’s eyes at the words. I for one am shocked to my core. He is basically kicking Sam out. Dean is just as shocked as me, the only difference being he is shocked into action._

_“Dad, don’t –” He takes a few steps closer to the fuming duo, though not daring to step within touching distance of either._

_Dad just keeps talking as though Dean hadn’t tried to intervene. “Just know that if you walk out that door, Sam, you better not come back.”_

_Sam takes an entire step away from our father, bumping into me in the process_ – I must have taken a few steps away from the door during the chaos after all – _causing him to turn and face me._

_A part of me wants to will everything I’m feeling deep down onto my face to convey to Sam just how much I want him to stay. To keep our family whole and try to make what we have work without Dad and Dean finding out for as long as we can, so all that can be possible._

_But I know that if I do that, Sam will see it as me taking Dad’s side, even after everything we just said to each other. I have to support him, at least until November, then all this will be over. Regardless of my true feelings._

_But whatever look I have on my face must make my decision for me because there is hurt and shock on Sam’s face as opposed to his previous anger before it shifts to regretful acceptance. He gives me a sad smile, which confuses me, before turning back to face our father once more. I pray to God he didn’t get the wrong idea just now._

_The two only stare at each other for a moment before Sam grabs his duffle out of Dad’s hand. “Fine.” Is the only thing he says before turning his back to John Winchester and making his way past me and a baffled Dean and out the motel room, into the humid August night;_ when had it stopped raining?

_I can only assume he’s more pissed than he was willing to reveal to Sam, because Dad strides past both Dean and me and slams the door, the noise echoing loudly throughout the silent room, more so than any thunder that storm had caused and enough that it actually makes me worry how much attention it drew._

_At first we all kinda just stand there in shock and silence, Dean and I not knowing what to say and knowing not to say anything to Dad when he gets like this. Though after a few minutes of me looking at my father, for some reason expecting him to open the door and go after his youngest son after just shoving him out the door and slamming it behind him for good measure moments prior, I get my_ own _ass into gear._

_As I turn to open the door, my father having moved to the side not too long ago, his gruff voice stops me._

_“Where the hell are you going?”_

_A colossal_ _part of me wants to turn my head and scream at him ‘to do your job!’ but I reframe for a simple, “To make sure Sam gets away okay.” And with that, I walk out the room, closing the door behind me without waiting for a response. Except, I don’t hear the door click shut._

_I turn back and see Dean hot on my heels, keys to the Impala in hand._

_“Dad gave you those?” I ask with a skeptical eyebrow raised._

_“Nope.” Is his only answer as he slides behind the Impala’s wheel. “You comin’?”He yells to me._

_I grin as I make my way to the passenger’s side and get in before Dean pulls out of the motel parking lot._

* * *

 

_I don’t wait for the Impala to come to a complete stop or to Dean calling out for me to wait. I just know that I need to see Sammy before he’s gone for what I know is gonna feel like forever._

_I dash through the doors of the bus station, bumping into a few people in my haste and not so regretfully apologize as I search the crowd of people for my shaggy-haired, freakishly tall big brother. Due to the fact that Sam is so tall, and I can’t spot him in the crowd of people, I fear that he has already purchased his ticket and left me for good._

_The thought discourages me physically, causing my head to drop back down to its original position as opposed to stretched above my shoulders. This angle allows me to catch a glimpse of a bench over near the doors for entrances and departures for bus passengers, and low and behold, Sam is sitting there, looking like a lost and dejected puppy._

_I run to him, not bothering with the people I bump into this time around. All I care about is getting to my Sammy. He must sense my approach because his head shoots up, sadness turned to joy and relief on his face._

_He stands and makes the two final strides separating us and lifts me into his arms, kissing me soundly. He holds me tight to him, and I wrap my arms around his neck as the kiss deepens, every ounce of what I wanted to say in that motel room with Dad coming out in a language I know only Sam understands, and I know he does when he smiles into the kiss._

_I can feel eyes on us, and it’s then I remember we’re in a public place, and people probably have nothing better to do at a bus station than watch two teenagers make out. Then I remember…_

_“Dean!” I pull away from Sam as though his touch set my skin ablaze; in a way it does._

_“He’s not here (Y/N/N).” Sam tries to reassure me, not willing to let me get that far away from him._ He always was a cuddler. My giant teddy bear. Focus (Y/N).

_“Yes, he is. He drove me here. He wanted to make sure you left alright. He was just supposed to be parking the car, but I bolted, and I-I don’t know what happened to him.” I say, panic seeping into my voice the longer I talk as my eyes search for my eldest brother’s._

_“(Y/N), (Y/N/N), calm down.”_ _He says calmly, taking my face between his massive hands. “If he did see us, then we’ll just leave right now. I’ll buy another ticket, and we’ll go to California and start over like I promised. You wouldn’t have to worry.”_

_“Y-you promise?”_

_“Yeah, baby. Don’t worry about Dean.”_

_“What about Dean?” Speak, and he shall appear._

_Sam looks at the newcomer over my head, and I turn around and face him myself, my hand not daring to leave Sam’s._

_“(Y/N) was just wondering what was taking you so long. It can’t take you that long to park a car.” Sam replies smoothly before I even have the chance to part my lips and I can’t be more grateful, but this could still go either way._

_“Well, parking wasn’t the problem. It was finding the two of you, which wouldn’t have been so hard if it had only been one of you I had to look for.” The last part is directed at me, though there is no hostility in the words, just Dean’s playful tone._

_“Aww. Don’t be mad because she left to find her favorite brother; you’ll have her all to yourself soon enough.” His words make me squeeze his hand tight as a melancholic silence falls over us._

_“So you really plan on leaving, huh Sammy.” It isn’t actually a question, and we all know it; I just hope it doesn’t start a fight between my brothers right here in the middle of a crowded Greyhound bus station. Watching Dad go at it with Sam was hard enough, I don’t know how well I would take Dean verbally or physically beating him up too._

_“We talked about this Dean.” Sam’s tone is still calm, but I can hear the annoyance and exasperation seeping through._

_“I know. I know. I just thought you’d- well with…”_

_Dean’s gaze drifts over to me._

‘So he did think I would somehow make Sam change his mind. Hmm… He’s gonna be crushed when he learns the truth.

_My body subconsciously moves slightly behind Sam’s massive frame for protection from Dean’s saddened gaze like it does whenever the two of us are at school, and someone picks on me._ _And Sam, naturally, moves to block me from Dean’s view as well, but only slightly. But enough for our older brother to notice._

_Dean watches the exchange and instantly understands. Doesn’t take a genius to see what’s going on here. He nods at the two of us as he drops his head, resignation turned acceptance spreading across his face, and he does a marvelous job concealing most of the bitterness of not figuring it out sooner as well._

_“I guess I don’t have a choice but to watch you go. I’m not stopping you from getting on that bus, and (Y/N/N) had obviously been with you from the start, so,” Dean lets out a deep sigh. “You deserve a shot at normal. At least one of the Winchesters does.”_

_I am completely shocked at Dean’s words, and based on the look on Sam’s face, so is he. I expected more of a fight or a least a guilt trip about leaving our family in a time of need when we still haven’t found the thing that killed Mom. Before we have done the impossible and vanquished all evil from this world, but Dean doesn’t do that. He supports his little brother and tells him that he deserves what he’s broken away from the rest of the family to acquire._

_Not at all what I expected and I won’t look a gift horse in the mouth. I just squeeze Sam’s hand and smile, glad that Sammy could have a relatively decent departure._

**_End Flashback_ **

The three of us waited for the bus for thirty minutes, and I didn’t care that I cried in front of Dean when Sam finally stepped on, and we watched them pull away.

I wanted so badly to kiss him one last time, though never actually wanting to call a kiss with Sam our last, but I knew I couldn’t do that in front of Dean. It would ruin everything.

But would it really have?

Sam said that if Dean had seen our little public display of affection, that he would have bought another bus ticket for me so that we could start our new lives right then and there. No possible months-long anticipation for when we would be reunited for good. Just us, together, _for good._

A part of me is kind of sad that Dean didn’t see us together, and for two reasons.

First off, my family doesn’t handle loss well. Like, any kind. So with Sam just up and leaving like this, it is a form of loss for us. See, I don’t remember what it was like with my mom around, but Dad and Dean do. They remember her like it was yesterday; they remember her _death_ like it was yesterday, so with Sam just leaving like this and Dad telling him to leave and stay gone, he might as well have died too.

Now imagine how they would have handled it if I had left with him? If Dean had seen that kiss? I’m thankful he didn’t because I don’t want to get a call from Bobby one day saying that my brother and father were killed on a hunt over something stupid and knowing that it was really because they were distracted because of me and Sam. And I _know_ that’s what would happen.

And second, I’ve had to keep this secret from my family for the past two and a half years, give or take. Now, in my opinion, keeping secrets is like lying, you’re never being completely honest with either one, so you can only imagine how I feel about this with my family. This isn’t lying because they don’t know Sam and I are together _– we’re brother and sister, why would they even have a reason to suspect anything? –_ training with Bobby is more like lying because Dad doesn’t want me doing it.

But like I said before, sometimes lying is a necessary evil and what I do with Bobby is necessary for my survival, and Dad will come to see that one day. Similarly, this secret is also a necessity. I don’t know what Dad would do if he ever found out about Sam and me.

_Nothing good, I presume._

Realistically, best case scenario is he’d kill us both. No, really. He’d have to. He’d track Sam down at school and kill him skillfully, maybe make it look like a suicide or something. People would believe that he was depressed and not having a traceable family helps to make it all look more real. But Dad would have to kill me too because I’d try to kill _him_.

It doesn’t matter that he is my father, if he killed Sam or hurt him in any way that I didn’t believe he could come back from, I wouldn’t have a choice but to retaliate. I know Sam would do the same if it came down to it.

But I’m painting Dad as the villain in this twisted story, and he really isn’t. Well, I guess that all depends on how you look at it. I know I say that a lot, but it’s true. Based on Dad’s perspective and how he was raised, what Sam and I have is morally wrong on _so_ many levels. He _might_ not kill his kids based on their lifestyle choices, but based on what the path he sent Sam on, if he ever found out about the two of us, whatever he does decide can’t be good either.

I mean, I know he loves Sam and me and would do anything it takes to protect us. I mean we’re his kids, why wouldn’t he? But sometimes the way he talks and acts can be a little judgmental, hypocritical, and just plain mean that it makes it hard to be anything besides what he wants us to be, which is more than likely why Sam kept his big news from all of us. One slip up too soon, and Dad might have pushed him away for good. But I think it’s too late for that anyway. And I think Dad’s starting to realize that too.

* * *

 

Since Sam left ten months ago, Dad has moved us to hunt a vamp nest in Colorado, a poltergeist in Michigan, ghouls in Oregon, and a pack of weres in Montana. He even let me start officially hunting with him and Dean a few days after Michigan; more out shooting in the field as oppose to my usually being assigned to research at the local library.

I should have been happy that my father finally thought I was old enough, _strong enough_ , to hunt with them. Ecstatic even. Bobby always said I was a natural and shot everything evil with the accuracy of a true marksman thanks to years of training with him, but I also had a skill that came with being a Winchester.

I make my brother and father proud and have saved both of their skins quite a few times in these past few months, but I’m not anywhere near happy about anything that has happened in these past few months.

Especially not at first. Well, I guess that’s not entirely correct.

Ever since Sam left, I have been trying to keep it together as best as I can. I know it won’t be easy with him gone. I knew it when he told me that life would be a challenge for the both of us until we were reunited. I could feel it in the way he kissed me in the motel room as our tears blended and fell to the floor. I saw it in his eyes as that bus pulled out of the parking lot, Sam’s eyes on me the entire time with a longing and sadness in them that I knew was reflected in my own.

Dean actually had to pull me to the Impala, and neither of us said a word the entire drive back to the motel; not that I was really surprised, but Dad wasn’t there when we got back, and I was a little glad. I didn’t blame him _– not at first at least –_ but I wasn’t in the mood to deal with anything he may say about Sammy out of spite then.

So it surprised me when he came back that night and laid in the bed next to the one I chose _– I knew it was Sam’s. It still smelled like him –_ and didn’t say a word to Dean or me. The next morning, though, Dad moved us out of Mesa with an urgency that left no room for argument. _That_ didn’t surprise me.

When we got at least 500 miles between that motel and us _– Dad making sure to go in the opposite direction of California –_ we stopped at another motel, all of us more exhausted than we were willing to admit, and crashed down in bed. The only difference between me and Dean and Dad, I didn’t have much motivation to get back up.

I knew I only had to wait three months, but it was still hard to find a reason to get up and keep moving until then. I was just researching and finishing my high school career online as it was anyway, so it wasn’t like I was really going anywhere anyway. Multiple hunts in the area kept us in the same motel for a while, which meant there wasn’t a reason to get out of the bed soon enough and nothing could keep my thoughts from drifting to Sam.

At first, it was trying to figure out what big bad was next, but I soon realized that it was usually a straggler that either Dad or Dean had missed from a previous hunt, and it was just about finding a location. Typically they were too weak to get far, so there weren’t very many places to check.

Once they had found and killed the thing, I made a point not to mention what the real problem here was, but I knew Dad would get it eventually. _Hopefully before one of them got killed._

My problem was that because I didn’t really have a job and schoolwork wasn’t really an issue for me, Sam was always on my mind, up until the point that I realized that Thanksgiving had come and gone.

Now I knew it might have taken longer than the allotted three months we had set up, but I at least thought he’d try to contact me. Especially on my birthday, which also came and went in early December. I prayed to God something had come up. He couldn’t get away; he couldn’t find us yet, _anything_. But somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew that was wishful thinking.

I spiraled into a depression not long after that. I didn’t talk, I didn’t eat, I didn’t _care_. As we moved, my family hoped my mood would lighten, but no such luck. Now, John Winchester was never much of the hovering parent, except when it came to monsters, but he did check up on me from time to time. I did most everything else so that he and Dean could focus on hunting.

One day Dad and Dean came back from a partially grueling hunt, both with numerous bumps and bruises and cuts covering their entire bodies, some worse than others. They had been outnumbered, the two of them against five vampires. Dad didn’t actually tell me, but I could tell they finally realized that they were a bit off their game, getting used to it being just the two of them again. He wouldn’t say it out loud, but they needed another hunter to make up for Sam, and there weren’t many people outside the family he trusted, and he knew I needed a distraction from my thoughts. So when he told me to grab my gun and head out with them to finish the job, I was the first one in the car.

When we got to the warehouse that the vamps were staying in, Dad gave me the run down on how he and Dean would go in first and I would follow. I waited a good five minutes before heading in and of course, they had been captured, the vamps having caught their scents from earlier.

I knew they had been making mistakes like this since Sam left, but _really?_ It was a miracle they weren’t dead or hadn't figured out for themselves at least. _Geez!_

There were three vamps left, and their heads were rolling before they even knew I was there. Simple enough. They shouldn’t have needed me, but things we gonna change.

After that, we developed a new, normal routine. I would research most of the time, but I also wouldn’t take no for an answer then it came to assisting on hunts. Dad needed me whether he admitted it or not, and I needed the distraction.

One night when Dad and Dean are passed out after a successful hunt that they thought they deserved a drink or… five, I sneak out of the motel room we have been staying at for the past couple days and make my way down to the convenience store that we have been to several times since we arrived in the town to the point where I know that the guy who works the night shift’s name is Frank.

I buy a pack of sour gummy worms and a rubber band ball. When Frank asks me what I need this stuff for at two o’clock in the morning, I take my stuff off the counter, implying that he can keep the change, and tell him that it will help me with my fresh start.

Now I wear three or four rubber bands at a time to help me stop thinking about the distraction known as Sam. Every time he pops into my mind, I pick at one of the bands and pop myself in order to remind myself that I need to move on. Though I still wear the necklace he gave me because I promised him that I would, even if he didn’t keep his. At least I know that with what I have now, I’m a better, stronger hunter, and it shows.

I have killed more supernaturals in the past few months than Dad and Dean combined. I see the pride in Dad’s eyes when hunts are finished, and the civilian is saved. I see it in Dean too, but I also see the fear and apprehension at the person I’m becoming I feel it too.

I used to be similar to Sam, an introverted bookworm with a curious mind, though Sam was always an extrovert. I used to wear my emotions on my sleeves for any and everyone to see. I was compassionate and listened to people’s problems and fears and talked to them without pity or judgment. That was just the kind of girl I was.

But not anymore.

Now, it’s all about the next hunt, though I still excel in my online classes, they aren’t my priority, but a part of me wants me to _– has to –_ get through that chapter of my life. Maybe to get closure and put all that behind me. Maybe it’s the girl I used to be trying to hold on with everything she has, telling me never to forget _. Not that I ever can._

So I listen.

…

The shell I put around myself, to protect myself lasts well past the year and a half marker of Sam leaving. It’s actually not until 26 months later that it crumbles completely, as though it were never there.

It happens in Palo Alto, California when I see _him_ again.

I see my Sammy again after all this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case I didn’t say it before, whenever Sam and (Y/N) get all lovey dovey or their by themselves, they call each other by their nicknames. I didn’t make a mistake; it’s not a typo. (Y/N) also does it to Sam in her head most of the time, but she doesn’t realize it, yet. *wink* *wink* 
> 
> R&R please and thank you all so much. Hope I didn’t kill you all with how long that was. I have no idea if the next one is that long. More or less most likely. ;)


	4. To Stanford and Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She thought when Sam got on that bus; he would come back to take her with him, but she was wrong. She never planned to go to California after that, let alone Stanford University. What are the chance she's gonna run into him here? Like one in twenty thousand, right? More if she just keeps her head down and focuses on getting this hunt done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MANDATORY A/N: So a couple of quick things that you need to know before you move forward. First, I made some changes to the past chapters. Things like changing and adding scenes to chapters two and three. Those scenes many not seem to have a major effect in this particular chapter, but as the story goes on, they will. I also mended the previous chapters so that they flow better and the grammar and whatnot is more diverse so to speak. Basically you might want to go back and read the first three chapters before you read this. I know I’m sorry, but it’ll be helpful in the long run. Last but certainly not least, I plan to be posting more in the new year, I don’t know if I said that for my previous stories, but specifically for this story I want to post more and to the point where it is on a regular basis. Don’t ask me when that is going to be because I don’t know yet; I just know that is one of my major new year’s resolutions. Sorry for any fans of my other stories, that means those might be on hiatus for a while, but that does not mean I am giving up on them. The only other story that I know that I want to keep up with in 2017 is Together; that’s a DCU story that I started in 2014. Way too long ago, so you see why I need to get back with it. I’m working with it right after I post this, so if you are a fan, be looking for a new chapter for that soon.
> 
> BTW: I meant to say this in like chapter two or three, but I decided to make the reader’s hair color any color even though pretty much everything else is decided for her because she is Winchester born because I wanted you guys to have a little more control over something. Think of her as like dyeing her hair or something. You’re welcome. :)
> 
> This chapter was titled before I went back and decided to make all of the chapter based off songs. Also because I couldn’t find a good song and this title just seemed to stick with me. Sorry if you don’t like it. My story anyway.

It’s around October of 2004 when Dad sends me to California to check out what seems to be another vamp nest just outside Palo Alto, while he and Dean finish up with straightening out everything with our last hunt just outside Vegas.

Not that I mind the eight and a half hour bus ride where I can enjoy the time I have all to myself without having to worry about the possible hunt that awaits me in the next state. It’s not actually until I check into the motel three miles from the bus station that I start to realize where I am and that I shouldn’t think about it.

I should ignore the fact that only a few miles down the street is the Stanford University campus, and that at anytime I could run into my big brother, Sam. _Should_ being the operative word in that exceedingly long sentence. But the chances _that_ would happen are frighteningly high, and as much as the majority of me is still pissed and heartbroken at when _he_ did, a small part of me misses my brother and urges me to figure out why he didn’t come for me, and that surprise me.

That part of me that had locked away after I began to hunt with Dean and Dad, I can hear her screaming in the back of my mind. She sounds hoarse, and her voice bloodied from all the screaming she has been doing since she has been locked away, but it doesn’t seem to deter her. If anything, it pushes her to scream louder, to scratch and claw at the walls I set up around her in my brain to keep her in and this new me out here _– probably to get this message to me._

But the new (Y/N) Winchester remembers the promise Sam made that night in Mesa, Colorado. Three months, give or take, he had said. That was two and half goddamn years ago and not so much as a fucking phone call. The new (Y/N) couldn’t give a damn whether or not her big brother is living out the _normal_ life he claimed he wanted so fucking bad. If he was willing to sacrifice his family _– her –_ for it, then so fucking be it.

She is the force that keeps the other girl back and out of the conscious part of my mind so I don’t do something irrational or stupid.

_Weak_ _is more like it._

Once I get situated in the motel room, I realize that I have two options, neither of which seem very appealing to me in the slightest. I could either stay here and see how much more I can find out about the case I thought I caught wind of here and wait for my father and eldest brother to get here before getting out there and increasing the risk of running into our missing link. Or I could go out there now and face the music and stop being such a scary little bitch and talk to some of the people around the town and ask who knew about what and get this fucking job done and put Stanford in the Impala’s rearview mirror.

Getting up from the bed farthest from the door, which I had haphazardly thrown myself onto when this conundrum worked its way into my head, I take my laptop out of my backpack and place it on the small table in the room, having come to a compromise in my head.

* * *

 

“So Lindsey was in your English class, and Andre was a friend of a friend.” I re-read what I have written down on my yellow legal pad in front of me back to the ravenette before me, making sure I have all the information correct.

Since I’m only sixteen and look only slightly older than my age, I can’t get away with impersonating an FBI agent like my father and brother _– at least Dean can say he’s like a rookie or a trainee or something –_ so here I am as a rookie reporter _– because that actually worked –_ trying to write a story about a couple of missing college kids from one of the most prestigious schools in the country.

I decided I wasn’t going to sit in the damn motel room and be scared of a confrontation with my brother was highly unlikely. Like a 1 in 17,000 chance kind of unlikely, and that was just counting the students on campus who were _supposed_ to be there. So after I took a little more time to look up a bit more about the case, I put on the only professionally casual pants suit I owned _– which was more casual than professional in my opinion, but it would give the right idea –_ and made my way to question some of the students, hoping someone could tell me something about the two vics.

I thought hitting up one of the local college pubs would be my best bet, but most of the people I talked to seemed more concerned with starring in some no name paper as opposed to actually telling me some facts about the dead kids.

_I mean most of the kids’ info is on the internet; they’re just telling me stuff I already know._

I have been here an hour, talking to a bunch of dumbass, self-absorbed college kids and am about to call it a day before this blonde waves me over. I’m tempted to ignore her, but the logical part of my brain tells me to give her a chance.

Turns out, giving her the benefit of the doubt is the right way to go. She is able to tell me more than any of the jackasses I have talked to combined, who seemed to have read everything about the two kid off the school’s website and memorized it by heart, specifically for the ‘opportunity’ I was offering. Albeit, she isn’t offering much, but it is _something._

“Yes, I hadn’t known either of them for very long, but I did consider them to be my friends.”

When she spoke, I could see and hear the sincerity in her words, whereas with everyone else I have talked to it’s been but bullshit and barely anything new about either vic. This girl, though, she seems to be the first sympathetic _– humane –_ person yet.

“My boyfriend actually knew Andre longer than I did, albeit not by much. Lindsey, Andre, and I had a study group that meets on Tuesdays and Thursdays, so I got to see them both pretty regularly. You’re actually more likely to get a better connection out of the two of us than any of the assholes you’ve been talking to.” She gestures to the patrons around us, minding their own business; some being people who I previously spoke with.

“What makes you think they don’t have anything meaningful to say?” I ask her as I push my black, thick-rimmed, fake prescription glasses farther up my nose, a small smile hidden behind the curtain of long (H/C) hair.

“Listen, kid, most any college student would give their undivided attention to a kid in your position if it meant they got their fifteen minutes of fame. Even if it meant bullshitting their way through the entire interview and squandering the names of two dead kids they could care less about along the way.”

She takes my hand in hers and leans in closely to me, forcing me to reel my hunter instincts back, which are screaming at me to grab the knife in my inner jacket pocket, but something in her eyes makes me relax.

“Don’t let people take advantage of you. _Ever._ It limits and degrades you as a person. Go your own way do your own thing, and have the strength to pick up on when someone is using you for their own personal gain. Don’t conform to their will.” Something in the way she speaks tells me that she is speaking from past experience.

Usually, I would have a problem with anything touching me, let alone calling me ‘kid’ or implying that I’m weak or gullible and conforming, that was the old (Y/N). But something about this girl in front of me makes me think about something I’m not ready to acknowledge yet.

I pluck at one of the rubber bands on my wrist as inconspicuously as I can and take a deep breath, but she must see something on my face and hear the rubber band snapping against my skin because the next the thing she does is back off.

“Sorry,” She speaks up again after staring intently at me for a long enough period of time for my thought to venture into places they have no business, and releasing my hand _– I sorta miss the contact now that it’s gone._ “I just have a problem with people taking advantage of others, no matter how big or small the situation. Yours is no different.”

“No,” I say quickly, a light laugh bubbling out of me to try and lighten the mood at the slightly startled look on her face. “I mean, it’s okay. I used to have issues with bullying and letting people walk all over me. I guess I’m not quite over it yet.” Well that part of me is still locked away even though it’s not really who I am anymore, so it’s not a _complete_ lie.

The blonde only stares into her drink as she plays with the straw, a smile playing at the edges of her lips. I know what she wants to say, but I don’t want to hear it. _He_ used to say the same thing.

I pop myself once more before asking, “So where is this boyfriend of yours? Any chance I could talk to him?”

“Maybe. I would have to talk to him and see what he says.” She takes a sip of whatever fruity drink she ordered before I arrived at her table. “He’s been really busy lately. Cramming for midterms and whatnot like the cute little nerd I know he is.”

The way she smiles when she talks about this guy, she cerulean blue eyes crinkle tightly at the corners, revealing just how happy is just to be talking about her boyfriend. I can only imagine how she interacts with him; I can tell she probably loves him, and I’m almost willing to bet money that he feels the same way about her. Reminds me of how me of how Sam used to b–

_God (Y/N), stop it! He’s gone, and he’s never coming back for you!_

Before I can reach for my wrist again _– which burns like a motherfucker –_ I feel my phone vibrate in my blazer pocket on the back of the chair, indicating that I have a new message. I glance up at the blonde in front of me, smiling apologetically at the interruption. She only nods in understanding and signals to the waitress for the check.

As the red-headed woman _– Lily, her nametag says –_ comes over and hands off the check, asking if either of us need anything else, I open my phone to see that Dean had texted me to ask what motel I had checked into and telling me to meet him and Dad there.

After I send off my reply, I pocket my phone and stand up, the blonde doing the same.

“Can I get your number for if your boyfriend has anything to say?” I ask her as we both put on our jackets.

“Sure.”

She takes out her phone, and we swap; it’s not until just then that I realize that I haven't gotten her name or even given her my own until I look back at my phone.

“Thanks for talking with me Miss Moore; you’ve been a big help,” I say as we walk out into the cool October air.

“Anything to help. And please,” She shoots me a bright smile that I can’t help but return. “Call me Jessica.”

* * *

 

When I get back to the motel, I see the Impala in front of the room I checked into _. Guess they found the spare key I left in the bushes._

“Hey little sister,” Dean greets me from the bed farthest from the door as I walk into the room. I’ve been bunking with him since Sam left. Dad’s a wild sleeper and not every motel has a couch, so it’s either this or the floor.

“Find out anything new about this supposed case?” Dad asks me as he walks out of the bathroom, cutting me off and jumping right to business.

“Hi, Dad. Nice to see you too.” I let the sarcasm drip heavily from my voice as I speak.

Dean looks up from whatever he’s messing with in his bag to look at the two of us, his eyes pleading with me not to start anything. _Not that I care much._

Dad tries to pin me with a hard stare, showing me that he isn't amused with my attitude in the slightest. Again, _I don’t care._

Ever since Sam left and I decided depression wasn’t a suitable color on me and became the hunter that I was always meant to be, my attitude has become something to be desired to others. Especially my father. Before I wouldn’t have been so bold as to, sass or back talk him, but he deserved it in my opinion. He’s one of the main reasons why Sam’s gone. Don’t get me wrong, Sam’s a dick for leaving _–me –_ us, but Dad is what pushed him away, in my opinion, not only to leave, but to stay gone. So forgive me if I can’t always be the obedient soldier that Dean is when this man pushed away his own son and the one person who _meant_ something to me and doesn’t even see that he’s done _wrong!_

After a moment more of tense silence, and intense staring, I let out a humorless huff and walk over to the table near the door where my laptop still sits.

“Lindsey Wallace and Andre Trebek were found drained of all their blood two days ago behind a Biggerson’s a few blocks from the campus. They had been reported missing three days before their bodies turned up. No one I talked to seemed to know anything about them, save one girl. Jessica Moore and her boyfriend knew the vics. Her, from a study group, and I don’t know about the boyfriend. He wasn’t with her. She’s supposed to call and tell me what he says and if we can talk face to face.”

At this point, I have pulled up the website for my classes in one tab and the public records on the dead kids in another.

“As far as I know, they don’t seem to have anything in common aside from attending the same study group, but you might want to talk to the cops about anything else _on this supposed case.”_

“Then that’s what we’ll do.” Dad has his fed suit in his hand and the door closed before he’s finished his sentence; I can tell my words had an effect on him due to the force he uses when the door slams shut.

Dean looks at the bathroom door while I start to log onto the website for my classes on my laptop and though I don’t look up at him, I can feel this disappointing gaze on my face and try not to let it bother me.

Fifteen minutes later, I can hear the Impala peel out of the motel parking lot, both Winchester men as her occupants.

I do my part by finding the hunt and talking to a couple of people around the school; they can handle the rest while I get some of my school work done.

* * *

 

Two and half hours and a Pepsi later, I shut the lid of my laptop with a tired sigh. Sometimes I think I should focus more on hunting than I give the little bit of time I do for the school because, _what’s the point?_

It isn’t like I’m going to do anything with a high school diploma, and I’m not going to college or some alternative form of higher education, Sam took all those dreams with him when he got on that Greyhound bus. But being here at Stanford is making me think, even if just for a second, what it would have been like to give up the hunting life and escape here with Sam.

I would have finished up with my classes online, like I have been, and maybe even gotten a scholarship like Sam. Everyday he would have come home to me; no one would've known who we were, so we wouldn’t have to hide our relationship. Regular dates and maybe even something more one day that we could invite the friends that we made along the way to.

This would be a life with friends away from the hunting gig, so we wouldn’t have to worry about them or us one day waking up to some creeper in the night looking for a midnight snack. _No._ We would have left all that behind when he came back for me, but… he never did. At least he got his freedom. Hope it’s nice.

_I don’t think you’re for this jelly (X3)_

_‘Cause my body’s too Bootylicious for ya babe_

The beautiful trinity that is Destiny’s Child snaps me back to reality. I pick up my phone and am surprised when I see Jessica’s name illuminate my screen. I hit the green phone button beneath my screen and put the device to my ear.

“Hello?” My voice breaks when I speak, causing me to clear my throat.

“Hey, (Y/N), are you alright?” Her tone holds genuine concern, and I have to wonder why she seems to so nice to someone she doesn’t even know.

I sniffle a bit and bring my hand to run over my face, which to my surprise, is wet. Apparently, I had begun to cry a while ago, and I hadn't even realized in until now.

_God, not this again. Get your shit together (Y/N)! You’re not weak!_

“Yeah, I'm okay. Might be losing my voice is all. What’s up?” I try to change the subject, hoping she just lets it go.

“Alright,” She doesn’t sound convinced, but she does let it go. _Thank God._ “My boyfriend can’t talk with you, he’s _really_ busy. I’m sorry.”

Truthfully, I’m not all that upset. I get that people get busy and just can’t sometimes be bothered, which is exactly what I tell her.

“He would have talked to you if he could, but now is a really busy time for him with midterms and everything. He got here on a full scholarship and just wants to keep his grades up. This just means a lot to him.”

“Wow. Tell him congrats for me.” I’m truly impressed. “Hey, Jessica? Since your boyfriend can’t talk to me, do you think I could sit in on your study group tonight and talk to some of them?”

“We actually canceled tonight’s meeting because of what happened, but you can come on Thursday.”

“That would be great. Are you sure it’s not an intrusion or something? I wouldn’t want to get in the way or anything.” I want to be sure I’m not overstepping.

“No, no. It’s fine. People sit in on these things all the time.”

“Alright.”

“I’ll call you Thursday afternoon –you know what? Meet me at the pub at 5:30 on Thursday instead.”

“Ok. Thanks again Jessica.”

“No problem.”

I hang up the phone just as Dean walks back into the room, a bag of food and tray of drinks in his hands.

“Hey. Where’s Dad?” I ask, taking some stuff from him and placing it on the table.

“He went to talk to the guy’s parent’s since they live about an hour from here. He’ll be back later on tonight.”

I make a noise of confirmation as I take a bite of my grilled chicken sandwich. I hadnt even realized how hungry I was until Dean got back with food.

The two of us sit in a confortable silence as we eat, the only audible sounds coming from one of us as we take a bite and chewing.

Dean gets up after a while to throw away his trash then begins to move towards the door.

“Where are you going?” I ask, sitting straighter in my chair.

“Out to interview some more people.” He says, only pausing briefly to glance at me before continuing on his way to the door.

“Cool. I’ll go with you. I’m not doing anything anyways.” I say, getting up to throw my trash away and follow him out the door.

“No,” He says before I can do so much as stand.

“And why not?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest and narrowing my eyes at him, daring him to say something bad or stupid.

“Because I might need to question some cute college girls and there’s no way in hell I’m bringing your ass to mess it up I don’t want to have to worry about you.” Dean uses his annoying big brother voice as though that will cause me to back off. _It won’t._

“What about it I promise to stay out of your way and stay away from the motel if you bring someone back? I’ll even cover for you.” Knowing Dean, he would more than likely be back later than Dad tonight.

“No, because if Dad sees you walking alone in the dark, he’s gonna kick my ass and I’m not taking another beating for or because of you.”

I roll my eyes with a sigh. “That was your own fault for not taking me back to the motel when I asked. I didn’t want to be there anymore, and you weren't ready to leave.”

“Which is exactly why you’re staying here.” He takes a threatening step towards the table when he sees me open my mouth to protest. “And if you don’t, I’ll tell Dad about your little escapade in Montana.”

My eyes widen in fear at the threat, unsure if I’m willing to take the chance on whether or not he’s bluffing.

I had told Dad that I was going to do research for a project at the local library in Montana, but in all actuality, I was going to take care of the ghost we had been in the town to handle, on my own.

Dad thought we had salted and burned the bones of the right ghost, but it turned out that the woman’s husband had been the one killing people, she was just trying to warn the victims before her husband got to them.

I thought I could handle it on my own, but I grossly underestimated the vengefulness of the spirit. If Dean hadnt followed me, I would be dead. Not a very exciting thing to tell John Winchester. But Dean swore he wouldn’t do that. Until it suited him apparently.

“You wouldn’t dare.” My voice is low and menacing, more so than I ever heard it, but Dean doesn’t seem bothered, and if he is, he sure as hell isn't gonna show his baby sister.

He leans closer to that our faces are inches apart, a cocky smirk sits on his face that makes me want to punch him.

“Try me.”

We hold each other’s gazes for a moment, neither of us daring to look away, lest we give the other something to make themselves feel better about.

But at the end of the day, it kills me to admit that Dean has the upper hand; I know he won’t hesitate to use what he has against me, even if it’s only for a quick fuck. And I’m really not in the mood to deal with the consequences right now.

I’m the first to break eye contact, my eyes downcast towards the table in defeat, though my face still scrunched up in defiance.

Dean, on the other hand, lets out a triumphant huff at my inevitable surrender; I am so glad I can’t see the smug look I _know_ sits on his annoying as fuck face.

“That’s what I thought.” He says before he makes his ways towards the door, his set of the motel keys jingling as he twirls them on his index finger. “Don’t wait up for me.”

He’s gone before I can say anything in response.

* * *

 

Sitting on the bed Dean and I share, I flip through the selection of extremely basic channels provided to guests at the motel. Nothing’s ever on tv. My flicking through the twenty-three channels I have to choose from proves that.

I finally decide to turn off the dinosaur device and fling the remote somewhere onto Dad’s bed. I flop back with an irritated groan.

Now’s one of those times where I really miss Sam, even though my mind keeps trying to push thought’s into my head to make me forget about him. _But I can’t help it._

This time instead of reaching for the wrist, I reach for my neck. I pull the necklace Sam gave me that night out from underneath my shirt where it has been hidden for so long and hold it between my fingers, playing with it a bit.

Right about now is around the time where Sam would ask me some crazy question that would make me laugh in order to evade boredom. Or he would crawl into bed with me and kiss me ever so hesitantly like it was the first time. That would make out pulses race and our breathing speed up as adrenaline pumps steadily through our veins until we are heatedly making out like some hormonal teenagers _– which we are._

We never got farther than simply making out and intimate touches, but it was a time we both loved, and he would never push me to do something I wasn’t ready for, no matter how much time we had together.

He used to tell me that for my first time, he would take me somewhere private and quiet, away from Dean and Dad and just _everything._ He would take care of me and it would be special and wouldn’t end until the sun came back up.

That’s what I miss most about my brother. The fact that he wasn’t just my brother. I know it’s wrong to think of him as anything more, to want to have my first time to be with him, bit I don’t care. Neither of us did.

Yeah, when he was here I was terrified of Dad and Dean finding out, but Sam promised to take me away so I wouldn’t have to worry about that. Another broken promise courtesy of Sam Winchester.

All of a sudden, I jump off the bed and throw on my boots. I’m not gonna sit here and be that miserable girl that only gets joy from thinking about her past relationship. I’m gonna get my ass out there and find a way to _really_ forget about Sam. _However I can._

So what if Dad’s pissed when he comes back and I’m not here after dark? Or Dean tells my dirty little secret? I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.

With that in mind, I head out the door, the slight chill from earlier an eager greeting on my overheated skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another quick BTW: I think I bumped up when Sam and Jess started dating. In the show I think they dated for six months or a year before Sam decided to propose, the time he proposes isn't gonna change, but the time in this chapter is a about thirteen months before Dean has to go get Sam because their dad goes missing, so IDK at the moment. I'll figure it out, but I thought I'd let ya'll know just in case they haven't been together for as long as the story is implying. I know that, I did it on purpose.
> 
> Okay so when I was writing this I honestly didn’t realize that I used the little girl’s name from the original Halloween series, Lindsey Wallace. It was a complete accident. I needed a name, and for some strange reason that was the first reason that was the first one that popped into my head. LOL right? Any other Halloween or classic or not so classic horror movie fans? As SPN fans I would think that some of you are. Anyway, R&R or tell me something about something. Thanks, guys!


	5. Don't Worry 'Bout A Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You need a break from your life and end up making your way back to the pub you met Jessica at, where you run into the blonde again and a few of her friends, who help you forget all about your problems, if only for a little while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me just say that I don’t like deadlines. If there’s one thing I have learned in the past three months, it’s that. I can’t stick to them, and I hate them. They make me so freaking nervous and now I feel like I failed because I planned to have this out in January in it’s April. I suck. Now I have hella work from school, and I know I can’t stick to my deadlines because of that. I really suck. And I’m babbling. Sorry. Just enjoy, and I’ll stress about my life as I work on the next chapter.
> 
> BTW: This chapter is titled after Tori Kelly’s version of Don’t Worry About A Thing by Stevie Wonder because I absolutely love Tori Kelly. Also as of recently, I came to a decision. Every time I listened to a Tori Kelly song, I used to image this story, and I could never figure out why; then it hit me. I have decided that Tori Kelly is going to be the official, unofficial poster girl for this story. Basically, she is going to be the reader. Well, my image of the reader. The reader will still be (Y/N), and I’m not changing physical characteristics or anything, but don’t be surprised if you see more pictures of Tori popping up in future chapters.

I find myself back at the pub I met Jessica at earlier that day. When I started out, I was just walking around the small town, not really paying attention to where I was going as I simply enjoyed being out of that small, boring, cramped ass motel room.

It really is a pleasant surprise when I see the thick blonde curls I had been so impressed with earlier that same day. No way in hell would my hair stay like that for more than two seconds.

“(Y/N)!” Jessica calls out to me when she spots me through the crowd of people after somehow looking up at just the right moment from her spot leaning against the bar. I make my way towards her when she waves me over. “Didn’t think I’d be seeing you here again so soon.”

I smile at her. “Ya know I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad one.”

“Actually it’s a really good thing.”

I look at her with a confused smile before she continues.

“If I tell you why, you gotta promise me your work stayed at home, first.” She looks at me with a faux-serious expression, but I can see the humor in her eyes.

“Work never follows me where it’s not wanted, alright.” I laugh when she playfully rolls her eyes. That actually isn’t true in the slightest, but she doesn’t need to know that, and there’s no reason it can’t be true tonight.

“Okay. So the people I came with, because why would I be here by myself, are from the study group Andre and Lindsey were in with me. I want you to meet them in a nonprofessional way so that you sorta know who everyone is before the meeting Thursday.

“Guess it’s a good thing I was here and not somewhere else. Almost as if I was meant to be here.” I joke, and Jessica smiles at me. This should actually be a good distraction. The last thing I want to be thinking about is this fucking hunt. That and Sam. “Lead the way.”

The blonde takes my hand and pulls me through the crowded bar, the two of us constantly bumping into people who were either too caught up in the company they were with to notice or were too drunk to care. Finally, we arrive at a U-shaped booth near the back of the pub, far enough away from the bar’s other patrons so that its occupants weren’t disturbed but not so isolated that the waitresses forgot about them, what with having to deal with so many other parties around the bar.

“Kinda crowded for a Tuesday, isn’t is?” I ask, having to raise my voice over a sudden uproar of cheering for something I could probably care less about. “I get why you and your friends are here, but shouldn’t most of these people be in their dorms studying or something?”

What I say must have amused her because he next thing I know, she’s laughing.

“(Y/N), college students come here to get away from things like studying. Relaxing and just have a little fun from time to time, ‘cause God knows classes are stressful enough.”

“Ain’t that the truth” A guy comments as he slides into the booth Jessica and I have just arrived at. His sky blue eyes take me in, in a way that tells me that I am being analyzed, and not in a pervy kinda way. No, this is more like ‘trying to pinpoint my face as if he’s seen me somewhere before’ analyzing, which is ridiculous because where the hell would I have been in Cali that this guy would see me?

I haven’t been to California since I was fourteen. There was a case just outside Malibu, and my brothers and I somehow convinced our father to let us hang out at Venice Beach. Maybe he saw me there, but I can’t for the life of me think why some guy would remember my face. I’m a wallflower. Was then. Still am now.

“Guys, this is (Y/N).” Jessica gestures to me, and I wave shyly at being put on the spot as there are all of a sudden five additional sets of eyes on me. “She’s that kid reporter I was telling you about, but she promises she won’t be a buzzkill tonight.”

“That’s alright. Joshua will probably have that job covered as it is. He usually does anyway.” A girl with fiery red curls and emerald green eyes that could easily rival Dean’s exclaims from the center of the booth.

This receives a series of laughs from all around, and a glare from a man with long, blonde hair, who I can only assume is Joshua. This causes me to laugh as well, even if only lightly.

“Well excuse me if I can’t help the things I say. Sometimes I believe you should just say what’s on your mind, at that moment, lest it is gone forever. I refuse to apologize if some of those things are so honest or blunt that they seem hurtful or buzzkill worth. Life is like that sometimes.” The way he speaks holds some humor, but the look in his eyes tells me that his words are anything but. Honestly, I can’t help but agree with him. To a degree. _Silently_.

There are times when you should speak your mind and do whatever at the moment, without fear of reprimand or hesitation because you might never get the chance to ever again, but there is a line. At some point, you have to realize that your actions have an effect on others as well as yourself and you might not be able to do and say what you want because of them. I know some people who don’t seem to have the courtesy to take that under advisement.

“As long as you keep your thoughts and most importantly, you’re actions censored, and as withdrawn, I think the night should be a relatively pleasant one.” The ginger next to him spoke up, removing what I have to guess is his hand from her thigh underneath the table. “Especially around new people.”

Joshua merely shrugs before taking a sip of his beer.

“You’ll have to forgive our resident _pig_ lash big mouth. Doctors still can’t seem to figure out what the problem is, but I’m determined to figure it out.” The girl stage-whispers to me, receiving several snickers from around the booth and the finger from Joshua. “I’m Amber by the way. I’m an undergrad at the school of medicine, and I know you hear most little kids say this, but I _know_ I’m gonna cure cancer.”

My eyes widen at not only her words, but the level of determination held behind them.

“And what exactly makes you so different that the other thousand people in the country currently working their asses off in search for this same cure, if you don’t mind me asking?”

She doesn’t look offended; she just smiles at me.

“Because I’ve got more dedication that anyone you’ll ever meet. I’ve been working and looking into this since I was six years old. My professor says that I’ll be an expert in my field when I graduate. And I’ll graduate summa cum laude. I have the ranking and GPA to prove it.”

I don’t believe Amber to be a liar even though I’ve only known her all of five minutes and now know her whole life’s mission. The way she speaks and carries herself is all the proof I need that tells me at least she believes what she is saying is true. Looking around and observing her friends, the looks on their faces indicate some believe what she says is true, while others think she is full of herself.

“Even though Amber’s only an undergrad, she already has internships available at Mayo Clinic and the University of Texas MD Anderson Cancer Center. Supposedly some of the top research centers for cancer in the country.” Jessica tells me as she scoots in next to the redhead, leaving me to stand awkwardly at the head of the booth.

Blue eyes seem to notice this immediately gets out of the booth and gently gestures for me to slide in where he had been sitting. I lightly shake my head in polite refusal, but he insists.

“Come on, girly,” He says, holding his hand out for me to take, “neither Rebecca nor I am gonna bite you.”

Rebecca must be the girl blue eyes wants me to sit in between him with. I look over at her, and she smiles kindly at me as she pushes her short, platinum blonde hair out of her face.

I glance over at Jessica, who is completely engaged in another conversation with the other occupants at the table and paying absolutely no attention to me or my inner struggle. At the end od the day, I realize that I’m probably just making a big deal out of nothing and that if something were to happen with theses people, Jessica would have given me a heads up. Something tells me she wouldn’t let anything happen to me and that she’s just an overall good person like that.

I take blue eye’s hand and slip into the booth next to Rebecca, and she introduces herself and her boyfriend as Brady _– I now know blue eyes name to be when Rebecca comments on his chivalry at letting me sit down –_ slides back into the booth next to me, effectively enclosing me within the group.

I sit there and talk with the member of Jessica’s study group for a while, never once thinking about Sam or the case, just being a normal girl, hanging out with normal people _– even if those people are like five some out years older than me._ It’s an overall nice change from Dad and Dean. Rebecca tells me that she and her boyfriend, Justin, are both business majors and are currently engaged. I can’t help but be happy for them.

“How long have you two known each other?” I ask, wondering what spurred this on after Justin tells me the two of them have only been dating for six months.

Rebecca laughs at my question and leans back into Justin’s broad chest. “Since middle school. We’ve dated on and off since high school, but someone close to me died our senior year, and that made us realize how short life can be and that we want to spend every moment in it, together. Been that way ever since.”

As she finishes her sentence, Justin leans down and kisses her tenderly, drawing a series of ‘aw’s’ from around the table. I smile down at my hands, happy that love like that is possible for some people. You don’t see or hear stories like that every day or see people _that_ in love, but when you do it just makes you think about your life and what could be. _Or what was._

I’m suddenly aware of an irate, repetitious stinging sensation in my wrists. When I look at them, I realize that I have been pulling at the rubber bands on my arms for what must have been a good while because not only are my arms beginning to turn an irritated shade of red but apparently, I had zoned out because I flinched when Jessica said my name.

“What?”

“Tell them that I have nothing to do with their beers not being here because I was getting you and a plethora of other reasons,” Jessica asks me confidently, even though I have no idea what they were talking about a second ago, though my brain is beginning to fill in the blanks.

“Uh…yeah, the waitress’s probably can’t even see us back here with all the people movin’ around and about around here,” I say gesturing lazily to the spot we’re in.

“Yeah, that and the fact that, that guy over there keeps distracting all of them from doing their jobs.” Brady huffs out, swallowing down what’s left of the beer in his mug.

I go to turn to glance over my shoulder at the man the brunet was referring to, but before I can, Jessica gets up, grabbing my hand in the process and says, “Fine. I’ll go _back_ over there and ask _again,_ and I’ll take (Y/N) with me since you guys apparently don’t believe me.”

“It’s not that we don’t believe you, Jess,” Brady says as he stands up to let me out of the booth. “but taking (Y/N) is definitely a good idea so she can guide you back in case you get lost.”

“Oh, shut up, Brady!” Jessica yells playfully over her shoulder at the sandy blonde as she drags me away, and I can only hear Brady laughing as we go.

We push our way back through the crowd in order to get back to the bar. Once we arrive at a miraculously open space at the bar, Jessica flags down the bartender and asks him about th drinks she had ordered just before I came into the pub, at which point he apologizes and goes to make them.

“So what do you think?” Jessica asks me after the bartender walks away. “About my friends I mean.”

“They’re really cool. Funny definitely.” I have to lean in and practically yell my answer in her ear because of a group of frat guys that are acting drunk, loud, and stupid.

“Yeah, they’re normally a lot calmer when they’re not drinking. _Somewhat._ Except for Josh and Amber.The two of them are always like that. I actually think they might have been showing off for you. All of them. Not every day that a reporter, no matter the age, comes to talk to us. You know what, forget reporter. It’s not every day that we have new people, in general, join our little group, save for when one of our significant others is visiting. Even if these particular circumstances are a little dull.” Just then, Jessica reaches into her pocket and takes out her phone. “Speaking of significant others,” She says smiling at her phone with that same look in her eyes that I saw yesterday.

“You go ahead and take that; I’m gonna head to the little girl’s room. I’ll be right back.” As I get out of my chair, Jessica answers her phone, and her faces seems to brighten even more if that’s possible, lighting up like a Christmas tree as she hears the voice of who I assume is the man she _loves_ on the other end, even though it’s so loud in here I could barely hear here when the two of us were speaking aloud.

I shimmy my way through the crowd once more, catching a brief glimpse of the frat boys who are playing some sort of drinking game.

God, I hope college kids aren’t like this all the time. I bet Sam doesn–

What am I doing? Two seconds away from Jessica and her friends and my mind is back on the problems of the past. Maybe it's _here. This_ is where he supposedly left after he left us. I only say supposedly because I haven’t seen him yet and I know that the universe is a mean bitch and if he really was here, we would have crossed paths by now. Regardless, it seems that being here reminds me too much of him because he seems to be on my mind _a lot;_ I see something of him in everything I do. Maybe coming here to California wasn’t a good idea. Maybe I should lea–

“Oomph,” Apparently I’m so caught up in my thoughts that I bump into someone. When I look up to apologize, I’m met with deep, forest green eyes glaring intently down at me. “Oh shit.”

“ ‘ _Oh shit’_ is right,” Dean says, his voice tight with the anger that reflects perfectly with the look in his eyes. “What the hell are you doing here, (Y/N)?”

I contemplate telling him the truth, that I came here to forget about Sam and partially because he’s not the boss of me, but that would only increase his level of anger, but also make him worry about me and ask me questions about whether or not I want to sit out this hunt as he looks at me with pity in his eyes, and that would piss me off. So instead, I do what Winchesters do best.

I lie.

“One of the people I talked to earlier called me and told me she wanted to introduce me to her friends that I'm supposed to ‘interview’ on Thursday for the case. She was the only one who really knew the victims, and this group seems to be the only thing the two have in common so far, so I’m just following up on a lead. Unlike you.”

At my response, Dean’s face softens some, but his eyes don’t. I know that he doesn’t believe me, even though most of what I said really was true. So before he can open his mouth, I turn so I can see Jessica, who has returned to the table with the rest of her friends along with their drinks.

“You see that table over there with the three guys and three girls in the corner? The blonde is the one that called me.” I look back at Dean, who still has a look of skepticism on his face and doesn’t even look like he wants to believe me.

With an exasperated sigh and an eye roll, I pull out my phone and click on Jessica’s number, which just so happens to be the most recent number in my call log; I turn back around when I hear it ring. I see her stop talking and take out her phone, looking at it in confusion before answering.

“Hello?”

“Hey Jessica, it’s (Y/N).”

“(Y/N), why are you calling me? I thought you were just going to the restroom. Where are you?” As she speaks, she looks around, ignoring her friends, whose voices I can hear in the background asking what was going on.

“I did. Do me a favor and wave.” I say brushing off her question temporarily.

From where Dean and I stand, I can see the confused look on her face deepen, but she still raises her hand and waves, still looking around. When she finally spots me, I wave back and motion to Dean.

“My brother didn’t know why I was here,” I say with another eye roll. “Told him that I was hanging out with some of the local college kids.”

“Were you not supposed to be out?” She asks in confusion.

“While I don’t regret coming out, technically, no.” I rub the back of my head nervously. “Anyway, I have to go now.”

“Aww, we were having so much fun.” She genuinely upset that I have to leave, and I can’t help but feel something warm in my chest at her dismay.

“I know, but you’ll see me again on Thursday.” I smile at her, and she smiles back. “Tell everyone I said sorry and I’ll see them at the meeting.”

“Of course.” She says before hanging up.

“Alright, you have your proof, now we can go,” I say with a little bit of bite in my voice as I turn back to Dean, who is still looking at the table.

I didn’t really want to leave. I was having fun with Jessica and her friends. I’ve never just hung out with regular people like that before, then Dean had to come and ruin it like that. And I’ll probably never get another chance to do something like that again. Well maybe on Thursday, and I’m gonna make damn sure he and Dad aren’t there for that.

“Yeah, sure.” He says distantly as I push past him and exit the pub.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> R&R please! I really want to know what you guys think so far. Next chapter won’t be so dull BTW. At least I don’t think so.


	6. The Art of Letting Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You are tired of your father and brother -not like he would ever speak up for you anyway- and you run into someone you never thought you would ever again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I started writing this, I did not plan on it being as long as all the other chapters, but I don’t regret it and neither will any of you. Enjoy…
> 
> BTW: This chapter is titled after The Art of Letting You Go by Tori Kelly.

Thursday couldn’t come soon enough. When Dean and I got back to the motel, Dad still hadn’t gotten back yet, much to our relief. It was nearing one in the morning, and he wouldn’t be too happy if he found out I had been out at that time of night. Lead or not. And I was not in the mood to fight with him again.

John Winchester is the most protective person one will ever meet when it comes to the safety of his children. The only person close to being as protective as my father was my eldest brother, but Dean’s not a parent and hasn’t _experienced_ the same things as Dad. Hasn’t _seen_ all the things on hunts as Dad. He made damn sure that there would be things that his son wouldn’t have to see unless _absolutely necessary._ And being the youngest and only minor left means that I get the blunt of the overprotectiveness from both men.

I know why they do it too. Ever since that night all of those months ago, even though U can hunt now, I know that they have gotten worse because of our missing piece. I know they mean well, but it pisses me off sometimes, the way they treat me. Sometimes I don’t think they realize that I’m not that quiet, antisocial little girl I was before Sam left. I’m still quite at times, sure, but damn it I can handle myself. One would think after all the cases I’ve solved on my own and all the times I have saved both of them _– once even on the last hunt we were on in Nevada_ – but they still look at me like I haven’t done any of that.

Sometimes I wonder if I’m good enough. _As good as him._ I wonder if the fact that I’m not _him_ means that my brother and father think _less_ of me. I used to just believe that they resented me because I was a morbid reminder of the woman they both loved and adored with everything they had. Then _he_ convinced me they were more worried about my safety and well-being than anything else. It was then that I saw it in their eyes when they thought I wasn’t paying attention as their gazes rested on me for a little too long in a way that let me see the worry shining in their green eyes. I heard it in their hushed whispers when Sam and I were supposed to be sleeping. How Dad would tell Dean to do whatever it took to protect us. How nothing was more important that us and our safety.

Even after all of those clear signs that I had nothing to fear of my family’s love for me, I still didn’t feel as though they had fully accepted me in the way our family accepts one another.

Hunting is our way of life. Has been since Mom, continues to be even if Sam refuses to be a part of it, and probably will be a part of the lives of his kids, mine, Dean’s, and that’s just saying any of us get that far.

But still, some part of me, even if my family won’t say it to my face, doesn’t feel comfortable here anymore. Dad and I butt heads almost as bad as he and Sam used to, and while I’m helping out with hunting, I can tell that my father and eldest brother don’t really need me all that much. Maybe in the beginning, just after Sam left, but now I’m not so sure. My attitude leaves much to be desired, my hunting habits are almost too consistent, but I should get the benefit of the doubt there because Dad did the same thing when Sam left.

And another thing, I think Dad and Dean can tell something is bothering me. And by something, I mean Sam. Ever since we got here, I’ve been snappy and irritable, especially towards them. I don’t mean to be; I don’t blame either of them for us being here. I’m the one who found this fucking hunt. This place just reminds me too much of _him. Of us._ What we could have been. I don’t know why he forgot about me, just that he did. I think about it every day, no matter how hard I try.

And with all these unpleasant, unnecessary fucking thoughts in my mind, it’s becoming more and more apparent to my eldest brother that _something_ is bothering me.

“Ok, what’s up?” he finally asks me when I come out of the bathroom, dressed in a pair of dark blue skinny jeans and a red tank top that I plan to wear underneath my jean jacket that matches my jeans. I’m just about to leave to meet Jessica and the group and the pub before the study group when he stops me.

I know what he’s talking about, but I’m not really in the mood to talk about it, especially not when I’m about to go somewhere I can forget about my fucked up life, just for a little while. So I play dumb.

“What are you talking about, Dean?” I ask, walking over to my duffle and tossing my previous outfit along with some of my toiletries inside. Still trying to be nonchalant about the conversation, I try to walk past Dean, who is sitting on our shared bed messing with one of the many guns we own; I don’t look at him, so I can’t really tell which one it is. Just as I get to the side of the bed with my shoes, I feel a hand grab my upper arm, stopping me from reaching my goal.

“(Y/N),” He says with a bit of persistence in his voice; I can tell he knows I’m being deliberately evasive.

“Let me go, Dean,” I say, still not turning to face him. With every fiber of my being, I don’t want to talk to him. Not _now._ Not about _this. Not **ever**. _ Not if I can help it.

“I know something’s bothering you, (Y/N). You’ve been acting stranger than usual since we got here.”

I huff out a laugh. “Are you implying that I act strange on a regular basis?” Dean can’t see the dark smirk that has made its way onto my face because my back is still turned, and I don’t know if I want him to. He might chalk it up to my ‘stranger than normal’ behavior. I know I’ve been acting weird, I don’t need to hear it from him too.

“Ever since Sam left, _yes_.”

That has any humor, light or dark, drained out of me and the smirk is gone instantly.

“I know him leaving fucked with your head,” _You have no idea._ “It’s been hard for me too. But I’m scared that with how you’ve been acting lately, you’re gonna end up doing something reckless.”

I yank my arm out of Dean’s grasp and turn to face him with a look of anger, that is nowhere near revealing how I actually feel, on my face.

“So now you don’t trust my judgment or something? I’m a ticking fucking time bomb just waiting to blow up and take the world with me, is that it?” Something in me is telling me that I am going to regret what I am saying if I keep going, but I’m not done yet. “Really Dean? You know how I feel? Not the _half_ of it! And you _never will!_ Not you, especially not _Dad._ If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he set you up to talk to me.”

Dean looks down at his hands at my statement, a look of guilt that is ever so familiar, crossing his face.

I can’t help but bark out a harsh laugh of disbelief. “No fucking way. He did, didn’t he? He’s _so_ worried about his only daughter that he had his eldest son, Dean Winchester, soldier in fucking training, talk her back. What all did he want you to do Dean?”

I’m trying to hold back my anger as I come to a halt, having been pacing during my entire rant, waiting for a reply. But Dean doesn’t say anything, still looking down at the gun he was cleaning in his hands.

“What. The fuck. Did. He. Say.” I ask again, leaning into Dean’s space, so he doesn’t have a choice but to look at me.

“He said he wanted me to talk to you. Find out what was bothering you, even though I already know.”

My eyes narrow dangerously as I ask, “And what exactly is _bothering_ me, oh wise one?”

“ _Sam._ ” I flinch at his name as though I hadn’t heard Dean say it moments ago. Probably the fact that he hit the nail on the head is what’s the most surprising to me. “Us being here, at the school Sammy,” _Shut up._ “left us for, doing God knows what. It bothers me too (Y/N/N),” _Shut up._ “Knowing that at any moment, we could bump into him and see his perfect life unfolding before our eyes. There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t think about him.” He’s on the verge of tears now. “ I wonder how he’s doing in school. How he is health wise. If he misses us. If he has a girlfriend.”

“ _Shut the fuck up Dean!”_ I shout angrily, not wanting to hear any more. Theses are all questions that I have had too, and to hear them all _out loud,_ from _Dean_ , is too much. And I don’t know if I can hold on for much longer if he keeps going.

I stand up, backing out of Dean’s face and more to put on my shoes, something to make me feel less… _numb._

I put on my combat boots slowly, one foot at a time, right? Once they’re both on and laced up, I hear Dean speak again.

“He also said he doesn’t think you should do this hunt. Feels your too emotional for this one.”

Now I’m _seething_.

“Sit out the hunt that I found?” My voice rises steadily as I reach the end of my sentence. “I put in the work to locate the hunt and gather the majority of the information to coordinate it, and Dad wants me to _sit is out_ just before I go and follow up on a lead that might solve us this thing? Fuck him!”

“(Y/N), Dad just wants what’s best for you and to kill this son of a bitch so we can leave.” Dean stands, his words sounding exasperated as though he is tired of this conversation already and it’s _pissing me off._ “If this lead is that important, I’ll handle it while you stay here and calm down.” He places his hands on my shoulders and looks me in the eye as though he has solved the world’s problems. _Couldn’t be farther._

I look up at him with a mix of anger, disbelief, and betrayal burning into his face just so he knows how much his words have affected me.

“Fuck you too Dean. Fuck you for siding with him like you always do. The perfect soldier for Daddy. Fuck you for not siding with your brother on his decision to have a normal life. Maybe if you had his back, he would’ve come back ‘cause God knows he doesn’t give a damn about me. Fuck Dad for pushing him away in the first place because he felt like a big enough freak literally _everywhere else,_ what Dad did made him feel like a freak to his family too. And fuck you both for ruining both of lives irrevocably.”

I don’t say another word or wait for Dean to as I push past him, grabbing my jean jacket and heading to the motel door. But before I can so much as touch the doorknob, I feel Dean grab my arm again.

“(Y/N/N) wait, I didn’t mea –”

Before he can finish his sentence, I punch him as hard as I can in the nose. I hear a sickening crunch under my knuckles and watch as he falls back onto the floor, a look of hurt crossing his face when he processes what just happened. I might’ve felt guilty ten minutes ago, but now I can’t help but feel satisfaction swell up in my chest at the image before me.

“Don’t call me that.”

And with that, I walk out of the motel without another word and leaving my big brother confused and hurt sitting on the motel floor, nursing a broken nose.

* * *

 

I walk through the motel parking lot and up onto the sidewalk in the direction of the pub. I zip up my jacket and contemplate throwing the hood over my head, but decide against it in the end, instead just keeping my head down and allowing the wind to blow my (H/C) in any direction it pleases as it picks up.

I don’t regret what I did or what I said. I didn’t actually realize just how much I needed to get that off my chest until after I’d said it. I thought I didn’t, but apparently, I was wrong. I do blame Dad and Deann for what happened, almost as much as I blame myself.

If it wasn’t for them, Sam might still be here. If they had tried to make Sam feel more like a valuable member of this family, and not like the freak he believed himself to be, then _maybe_ just maybe… he’d still be here. _With me._ With us. The Winchester family. It doesn’t have that much a ring to it without all its members though.

Dean says he misses him. Thinks about him on a regular basis, but does he regret what happened on a daily basis? Does he reflect on what could have been? Does he contemplate going onto the campus and asking for his little brother just to know if he regrets leaving? I wonder that last one myself, _daily._

Does he miss us _– me –?_ Does he regret not coming back? Has he moved on? Is he happier? Is he better off here? Am I being selfish with these thoughts? These _nagging_ questions?

I want him to be happy. I just thought he’d be happy with me. Guess I didn’t really know him. Makes me almost as bad as Dad and Dean.

Speaking of…

I feel my phone vibrate briefly in my pocket, indicating that I have a new text message, I’m assuming from one of the aforementioned people. Either from Dean to make sure I’m okay or to curse me out, or from Dad because he came back from whatever lead he found and Dean told him what happened. Either way, I’m not in the mood. As a matter of fact, I’m almost at the pub.

There ae a bunch more people on the streets at night here, but it is a college town, so not entirely surprising. I walk up to the pub as a group of students are coming out, all in various stages of sobriety even though it’s like 5:30 in the afternoon. One of the guys exiting holds the door open when he sees me walk up and I smile thankfully at him, and he smiles back before jogging to catch up with his friends.

Just then, my phone vibrates again twice, causing me to reflexively take it out. I see two texts from Dean _– both of which I ignore_ – and one from Jessica. I smile at the text, feeling better some when images of Tuesday night flash briefly in my head, and I instantly open the message.

**_‘Hey, girl. My BF surprised me and told me he was gonna come with me to the meeting tonight. Guess you’ll get your interview after all. See you at the pub. ;)’_ **

I smile at that. _Finally, some good news._

I walk into the pub, and there are so many people here. I have to push my way to the bar so I can see the whole place. The bartender comes over to me and asks what I’m having.

“I’m actually looking for someone,” I say, noticing it’s the waitress who served Jessica and I Tuesday afternoon. “Do you remember me? I was in here two days ago with a blonde who goes here.”

“Oh yeah. She came in here with her boyfriend a few minutes ago. At least I’m assuming that was her boyfriend with the goo-goo eyes they were giving each other. I saw you guys in here Tuesday night too. She’s with the group at that table you all were at then.”

I thank Lily and look towards the booth we were at and spot Jessica laughing at something someone – _Brady no doubt –_ said.

I move away from the bar and towards the table, but stop dead in my tracks at who I see sitting next to Jessica.

“ _Sam,_ ” I whisper like a prayer. I haven’t said his name since the day he left, and it feels so familiar on my tongue. I had forbidden myself from saying his name for _so long_ because I didn’t know what would happen if I said it. But now I can because he's _right there._ I want _desperately_ to move, but my feet are practically glued to the floor.

What finally has me moving though is when San leans down and places a kiss on Jessica’s thin lips, and not any kiss. He kisses her the way he used to kiss _me;_ when he pulls away, he looks at her the same way too. More even.

That has me moving. But not _towards the table_ so that I can tell him how broken and lost I have been these past 26 months without him, or to make him feel all the hurt and pain that I have endured _after all this time_.

No.

I’m moving as fast as I can _towards the bar door,_ not caring who I bump into or what curses they throw at my back. I just keep moving to _the bar door_ until I can feel the cool October air on my face. But I don’t take the time to enjoy the feeling on my entirely overheated skin because then _I’m running._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How was that? Too much? Not enough? I feel like I got carried away in some places, but I want to know what you guys think. I working on chapter 7, got it halfway done now because I was so passionate about this. You can tell I’ve been building up to it a little. Sorry Sammy was only there briefly, but he’ll be back. Not for a few chapters though. Sorry.


	7. All In My Head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You are officially done with this town and everything in it, especially your family. With nothing holding you back, you back your bags and leaving Stanford behind, and on your journey God knows where you meet some people who make life seem not so terrible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So after I got 4 pages into this chapter, I thought it was too long for no reason. I just got into this headspace and kept typing until I had to stop. I hope you guys like it and don’t think the same.
> 
> BTW: This chapter is titled after All in My Head by Tori Kelly. And on AO3, I got rid of a lot of tags because I didn’t think they were necessary. You can read the story and figure out what relationships are, but some tags are necessary for some chapters for the purpose that they are warnings.
> 
> I put (F/N) for First Name in here because we are assuming that (Y/N) is a shorter version of the reader’s name. If that’s not the case for you, it’s okay. Just put in a nickname for that particular space or use your name for both spaces.

I don’t stop running until I get back to the motel room door. I throw it open and am met with complete darkness. Whatever the texts from Dean said must explain where he went, but I don’t really care right now. I need both him and Dad gone to do this.

I rush over to my bag and push the clothes on top f it as far down as I can with them wrapped in one big ball, making it harder to close. Next, I go into the bathroom and pick up anything I left from my shower before heading over to the sink to do the same, but when I glance up at the mirror, I can’t help stopping for a moment.

I don’t know when exactly I started crying, but my face is red and puffy with tear tracks going in all different directions, probably from my run here. I can’t help but let out another quick sob at my appearance. I see _him_ one time, and I’m back to being the sad girl I was before he left. But I can’t think about that now; if I get too hung up over this, I’ll never go through with leaving.

I splash some water on my face a few times and slap my cheeks.

“Come on (Y/F/N). You can do this.”

I make my way out of the bathroom and place my remaining toiletries in my toiletry bag before zipping up my duffle and throwing it, along with my computer bag over my shoulders. I do a quick once-over to the room, and my eyes stop on Dean’s bag.

He’s gonna blame himself for this, and the coldest, darkest part of me, the part that I have come to know as the new self that I created after Mesa, hopes he does. But I also hope he finds it in himself to forgive me and move on. Dad’ll be okay, he pushed away one kid, he won’t miss _me._

With that in mind, I drop my motel key on the nightstand between the two beds and make my way to the bus station.

* * *

 

I don’t have a destination in mind, and the only tickets available are leaving now is going to Nebraska. Perfect. East sounds just perfect. I can’t spend another minute here. Not Palo Alto. Not in California. Not on the West fucking Coast. I just want to get as many miles between _them_ and me as I can.

The older woman behind the ticket window looks at me with pity, she must think I’m a runaway or something. I don’t really care because it’s actually true. Dad and Dean are going to lose their shit when they find out I’m gone. Without a trace. But like I said, they’ll get over it.

Knowing our family, the first thing they’ll probably think is that some monster took me _– maybe even the one we were hunting –_ before they completely assess the situation and realize that all of my stuff is gone too. Then they’ll probably put out a hunter’s APB on me, but I don’t want to be found that quickly. I know enough to but myself some time before they catch up to me. But first thing’s first, getting the hell outta dodge.

I take the bus ticket from the woman and ignore her attempts at asking me where my parents are, why I’m traveling alone, and if I need help. Instead, I tell her I’m going home to see my parents from visiting a sibling who attends the University.

I speed walk to the bus, tossing the hood underneath my jacket over my head in the process, and manage to snag a whole row by myself in the back. It’s not until the bus is pulling out of the parking lot, out of the college town where I’m leaving my _entire_ family behind that let the tears fall once more.

As I cry as silently as I can so to not draw attention to myself, I can’t help but wonder if this is how Sam felt that day in Mesa when his bus drove away from Dean and I. He couldn’t have felt as terribly as I do. I feel as though my heart is breaking all over again. As though there is nothing on Earth, Heaven, or Hell that could ever fix it.

Sam doesn’t know what that feels like. He _can’t._ He probably doesn’t know what it feels like to be heartbroken. He couldn’t have loved me in the way he said if he could just give that same love away to someone else.

But I met Jessica. I know that she is everything that I’m not. She’s smart, beautiful beyond anything I could ever be, and she had such a charismatic personality…she had me at our first meeting. And God she was so _nice._ I was skeptical of her at first because she seemed _too_ nice, but as time went on, I realized she was just really good people. I could sense it. It’s a gift of mine, it’s like I can read something deeper in people that makes it easier to tell who is who. I knew she was a good person from the start, but I have met so many bad people in this world that I was on the defensive when I felt her.

No wonder Sam never came back. One glance from her, and he was probably under her spell. I don’t have that kind of personality. I saw the look she got in her eyes when she spoke to about her boyfriend our first meeting. And again when she talked to him on the phone at the pub our second meeting, and finally how that same love was reflected back in his eyes when they shared their warm, heartfelt kiss less than an hour ago.

I know whoever this guy was must have been the one for her if he was able to make her so happy, even when he wasn’t in her presence. But I never thought _my Sammy_ could be the one for anyone but me.

I guess people really do discover themselves at college. I never thought discovery could be so painful.

* * *

 

I ride the Greyhound for nearly 24 hours, the bus frequently making stops at gas stations, fast food restaurants, and other places where a few people board and others leave before we reach our destination in Grand Island. As we drive in, I notice just how beautiful and quaint this place is, but 1500 miles isn’t a significant enough distance between Palo Alto and I.

When the bus pulls into the station, I grab both my bags and make a B-line for the Ticketmaster. This man is around the same age as the woman at the bus station in Palo Alto maybe a bit older _– the late 50s, early 60s –_ except he doesn’t seem to bat an eye at me as I walk up. But that might have something to do with the fact that he has headphones in his ears.

“Which bus is going the farthest east and what time does it leave?” I don’t beat around the bush with my questions, causing the man to take his headphones out, look away from whatever he’s doing on the computer, and give me his full attention.

He looks me over for a second, worry and curiosity taking over his features.

“And why would you be heading that way?” he asks not unkindly.

I groan internally, not wanting to deal with too many questions, and tell him the same thing I told the female Ticketmaster in California, editing bits and pieces to fit my location.

“You don’t look old enough to be going such a long way by yourself.” His eyes narrow slightly in confusion. “If you're meeting your parents, why do you want a ticket to some random city on the East Coast?”

 _Well shit._ Most people don’t ask this many questions or pick up on little details like that. They just don’t care enough.

Apparently, I don’t answer his question fast enough because a look of confirmation passes over his face. “Ok young lady, why don’t we call this ‘sibling’ of yours and get them to straighten this whole situation out.”

“That won’t be necessary,” I say as I pick my bags off the floor and sling them over my shoulders before quickly making my way out of the Greyhound station before the guy can call the police or something unnecessary like that.

I mean _seriously_ , I’ll be seventeen in two months. It’s not like I can’t survive on my own for two seconds. I’ve killed things that would make most people piss themselves, and he thinks I need my fucking brother to take care of my ‘situation’? _What the fuck ever._

I make my way down Route 30 for a while, a little chilly even through my jacket and inner layers, but mostly pissed off. The sun is just coming up to me left, and I can’t help but roll my eyes at it, thinking I’ll be out here for hours til I find another town. Probably in the dark.

Just as the sun is almost out of the sky, I spot a building with several cars, pickup trucks, and motorcycles around it. From the looks of it, it appears to be a bar, but based on its location, it’s probably a roadhouse.

As I approach the building, I don’t take the time to confirm which because over the years, any and every place one could go to but a drink was the same. On the outside, there were always neon lights that spelled out the name of the establishment. The buildings were all in different states of being, some showing just how old with the amount of stains and cracks on the walls. While others were pristine and new, not to mention that the younger the patrons, the newer the place likely was.

This place was obviously one of the older places though. Judging by the age of the wooden boards the place was built from; they were obviously older, but they looked like they had many more years in them. The patron’s cars also gave it away. Being the daughter of an ex-mechanic and auto lover meant I knew a few things about cars and their owners. And based on the fact that most of these cars are over 10 years old means that their owners were probably either late baby boomers or early generation Xs.  Some might be younger than that, but you don’t meet very many younger people interested in driving 1970 Dodge Challengers or 1962 Ford F100s. Most kids nowadays want the newest, most expensive car out there, with only a few _– like my brothers and me –_ raised to know the full physical value of a car as opposed to how pretty, shiny, new, and in style it is.

I walk past all of the cars and up to the door, completely exhausted due to the fact that I have just carried everything I own _–which has to weigh at least 20 pounds –_ almost 30 miles and take a seat at the very end of the bar, dropping said belongings at my feet. The bartender walks over to me, a beautiful brunette who looks to be around my father’s age, perhaps a bit younger.

“Hey sweetheart, what can I get you?” she asks me with a kind smile. With everything that I’ve been through recently, her kindness almost seems misplaced.

“I’ll just have water,” I say, and my voice seems to give away just how tired I really am.

The bartender seems to notice this as well, and a look of sympathy passes over her face as she prepares my water in front of me. I gulp down the water as if I haven’t drunken anything in days until the last of the refreshment is gone from the cup, and the woman takes the glass away and fills it almost to the top once more. I pick the glass up again and take slower sips this time, and the woman just looks at me for a while.

“If you don’t mind my asking, what are you doing out here in the middle of Nebraska?” She still has that sympathetic look on her face as she asks me this, but it isn’t like either of the people at the bus stations. They looked at me with more pity than sympathy _– I might even be able to go so far as to say there is a bit of understanding in those eyes as well –_ because of what they believed I was doing or how I looked, I don’t know. I just know that it pissed me off. I’m not some poor, defenseless little girl who can’t handle herself and needs the company of someone else to get along.

Those people made me forget about my heartbreak and sadness, even if only for a minute. But this woman with kind, warm hazel eyes, eyes almost the same shade as my brother, just as welcoming as his used to be, just made everything come crashing down all at once.

Before I can even process what I’m doing, I have burst into tears, and not just any tears. These are fat, ugly morbidly unattractive globs of salt water. And once I’ve started this, I know it’s going to be a while before I can stop.

The brunette before me comes around and rubs her hand back and forth on my back as I cry, a comforting, womanly touch. One that I can only assume only a mother could give, and this makes me sob even harder. I’d never had a mother’s touch to guide me and show me all of the ways to survive this world and all the problems that come with it. Her daughter _– assuming she has one –_ must love and admire her because I know that this woman must really be something if she is taking the time to comfort someone she doesn’t even know.

“Listen, sweetie,” she begins when my sobs die down to pitiful sniffles. “I don’t know what happened or what you’re going through, but for someone your age, there is so much more in life to look forward to. You can do and be whatever you want to if you don’t let the problems of your past weigh you down. There is no amount of darkness out there where you can’t find even a sliver of light.”

Her words are impactful, _meaningful,_ and to most people, those simple words of encouragement from a stranger just might get them to get up and push through whatever trials and tribulations life throws their way, but not me.

I haven’t been dealt the best hand in life. My mother was murdered when I was a baby, and that forced my father to lose his mind with grief and this unquenchable thirst for revenge on the thing that killed her. I lost my childhood _–a normal one anyway –_ and ended up falling in love with my brother, who I believed felt the same way about me. He left and promised to come back for me, but never did because he has everything he needs without me. I don’t think my other brother and father need me either or even see me as they see him; a girl can only take so much before she breaks.

So no, the words of some stranger, who probably has no idea what is really out there lurking in the dark, and damn sure doesn’t know a thing about me or what I’ve been through. If she did, she’d probably remove her hand in disgust and kick me out of her place and tell me to never show my face here ever again.

But I’m not going to tell her my story. Never even crossed my mind actually. What I do though is force a fake smile through my tears, praying silently that it’s convincing.

“Thank you. Not very many people out here who are kind enough to comfort a sobbing mess like me.” I say, looking down into the remainder of my water.

She pats my back once more before moving back around the bar. “Yes, I did. You walked in here looking like you were gonna pass out any second and like the world had chewed you up and spit you out a few times over.” As she speaks, a girl not too many years older than me _-18 or 19 from the looks of it –_ with curly blonde hair and eyes that almost mirror the bartender’s walks behind the bar with an empty bowl for what I assume is for pretzels or peanuts. “Plus, if something happened to my Joanna Beth, I’d want someone to do the same.”

_So she does have a daughter._

“Oh Mom, you know I can handle myself. I’ve kicked enough of these guys asses to prove that.” She says as she pours more pretzels into the dish.

“Language Jo.” The woman says in a scolding tone. Jo rolls her eyes behind her mother’s back at the tone. “I saw that.”

Jo, in turn, stutters slightly and comes over to us with a nervous smile that makes me smile slightly.

“So who is this?” She asks looking at me with curiosity swimming in her brown eyes.

At first, I have an impulse to lie again, afraid that my father might roll through here looking for me, and they say that they’ve seen me, but what are the odds of Dad finding this particular roadhouse in the middle of nowhere Nebraska.

“(F/N) Wi –” I clear my throat a bit. They don’t need to know everything. “Just (F/N), but you can call me (Y/N) if you want.”

“(F/N), where have I heard that name before?” The woman looks at me with an analytical gaze as she tries to place me. It makes me nervous for some reason.

“Don’t know. It’s a pretty common name. Maybe someone came in here with the same name.” I try, though she continues to give me the same look.

“Maybe.”

“Well my name is Jo, but you knew that. Well, I guess you know my first and middle name now seeing how my mother loves to use it so much.” She gives her mother a side glance, one that says, ' _why can’t you just call me by my preferred name instead of embarrassing me in front of strangers?’_ “But you can call me Jo. Jo Harvelle. And this is my mother, Ellen.”

Jo holds out her hand for me to shake, and at first, I just glance at it, but something in me lets me know that I can trust her. Both of them.

“Nice to meet you Jo and Mrs. Harvelle.”

“Oh sweetheart, call me Ellen. I’ve never really liked the formalities of Miss and Misses.” She says as she moves to make a beer for some guy at the end of the bar.

“So what brings you to the middle of Nebraska. I don’t remember seeing you before.” Jo asks while washing some dishes after placing the bowl of pretzels in front of me.

I picked one up and place it in my mouth. Once I start chewing is when I realize just how hungry I am. I haven’t eaten anything in a day and a half because I never bothered to pick anything up at any of the rests stops on the bus.

I find myself answering her questions honestly, which surprises me. “Just traveling. Needed to get away from my family for a while. Too much drama for me to keep trying to deal with.” I say around a few pretzels, the bowl now halfway empty.

Jo seems to notice this and looks back at her mother. Ellen comes over with a look of worry on her face.

“Do you want something heavier than that sweetheart?” She asks me, giving me the same look her daughter has.

“No, I think I’m okay,” I say as I finish off the last of my pretzels practically scarfing them down and choosing them with the last of my water as well. When I look up at the pair, they are staring at me expectantly. “What?”

The look of concern that Ellen had on her face changes to one of determination.

“How about a grilled cheese and some more pretzels? On the house.” She adds the last part when I go to comment. And apparently, my verbal answer doesn’t matter because the next thing I know, my stomach lets out an embarrassingly loud growl, causing Ellen to give me a look of confirmation before she walks away to make my sandwich I assume.

She returns ten minutes later with my meal and another glass of water, Jo having gone to serve a few of the bar’s other patrons.

“And you can stay here for as long as you need to. And don’t tell me you have somewhere to be, I know you don’t.” She uses her stern, ‘Mom’ voice that she used on Jo not too long ago. “Now eat; there’s plenty more where that came from.

I still don’t understand why they’re being so nice to me, but for the moment I’m not gonna look a gift horse in the mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> R&R, please.


	8. Torn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader is in too much pain in light of recent events and everything she has been through. Except she doesn’t know who she is or where is plans to go. What is she gonna do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to start off my saying that I apologize for taking so long with the update. I am trying so hard to update like every two weeks, and I planned to stick to that, but by the time I finished this chapter my finals were rolling around and I needed to focus on that for the time being. Now that’s done and somehow, some way, I have finished the next two chapters as well. I just need to type them up. And they should be up within the next few days if nothing comes up. Enjoy for now, but I have something I need you all to do in the coming chapters. More in the ending A/N.
> 
> Chapter title song. Torn by Natalie Imbruglia, but in particular story, it’s the Rachel Berry version from Glee because the reader doesn't know who she is or where she is heading.
> 
> BTW: This chapter is mostly exposition, but next chapter should be better. Defiantly more angsty. And there are pictures for it as well, so if you want to see them, check out the story on tumblr. There are actually a bunch of pics and GIFs for past chapters there as well that I couldn't post here, so you can see those too. Just look up roseangel013bf

I stay with Jo, Ellen, and Ash _– I met him an hour after I had gotten to the roadhouse, and he was a… interesting genius; he would be amazing for the hunting community_ – for two weeks before I finally decide that I need to leave.

I really don’t want to because I have grown close to the trio. Ellen gave me a room in the back and a job working as a waitress in the roadhouse, which I thought was a nice change to what I normally do for money and work and a great distraction.

I don’t reflect on my family or my shitty past the whole while I’m in Nebraska. I’m too busy serving people beer and food and listening to Jo go on about wanting to travel the country, though a part of me feels as though there is a hidden meaning behind her words.

I just feel better when I’m taking Ash a beer and whatever dinner Ellen cooks for us that night, having him teach me some of the techy stuff he learned before getting kicked out of MIT. Or when Ellen asks me how I like it there with them, or subtly getting me to talk about myself, _my past._ But I can’t talk to her about all of that for two reasons.

First, she can’t relate to my past. Hunting the things that most people don’t know let alone believe are out there in the dark. The family business isn’t something you just tell people about for different reasons, regardless of how friendly and open they seem. She’d either think I was crazy and would send me somewhere else or I would bring a new level of understanding to her life, one that would cause her to become more and more paranoid about her own daily life and the safety of her daughter and her establishment. That’s why we do what we do and shut up about it.

And second, there are some aspects of my past hat I’ve never been honest about with anyone. The relationship between Sam and I is not one that can be broadcasted to literally anyone. No one would look at either of us the same, not to mention the fact that if somehow the news that my brother and I were once an item got back to California, Sam would never be able to have that normal life he so desperately craves _– he’s making it a reality Y/N, it’s not longer a dream –_ and that would be on me. And don’t even get me started on Dad. I can’t even imagine what he’d do if he found out. Better to just let all of this dwindle back down to the secret it once was between two incredibly fucked up siblings.

I know I should just move on and forget any of this even happened _– Ellen’s words didn’t fall on deaf ears that night_ – but no matter how many tables I bus or laughs I share with the only friend I’ve ever had outside blood, I _can’t_ forget. This pain that I’m feeling is always there, persistent for my attention, and I’m too weak to fight it anymore.

So on the last night of the second week, I decide I won’t and pack my minimal belongings, using my hunter skills to my advantage as I sneak past Jo’s room, then Ash’s, and finally Ellen’s as the trio sleep in a peaceful, drug induced state _– couldn’t have any of them waking up before I’m gone and making this harder than it already is._

I look back at Harvelle’s Roadhouse one last time from the highway before making my way back down Route 30 towards the South Dakota state line.

* * *

At first, going to Sioux Falls seems like the best idea. I’m sure Bobby would let me stay for as long as I needed before my father eventually caught up with me. He probably contacted the older hunter to have him keep an eye out for me, but I know Bobby wouldn’t do that, and that’s one of the reasons I stop.

Sure Bobby wouldn’t tell Dad where I am straight away, but that’s the problem. My father has been overprotective of me since the night my mother died. Nowadays he might not be as upset if he found out that Bobby had been training me behind his back since I was eight, but that topped with the fact that he knew where I was after I left him and Dean weeks ago would severe the relationship between the two. They might now always see eye to eye, but this would make any petty argument they’ve ever had in the past look like minuscule misunderstandings. And I know Dean would be on Dad’s side, he always is. But no matter how upset I might be with them and this whole situation, I could bever bare being the one responsible for Dean and Bobby’s fallout he admires the man too much.

But I also realize something else on my way up to see the old man while in the eighteen-wheeler with a guy who was nice enough and not at all shady to take me. Bobby can’t help me. He might actually make the situation worse. He would remind me of Sam, and my pain would only increase as time goes on. Some of my best memories with him were at Bobby’s house. I know Bobby would have good intentions for me, trying to help me, but never knowing the real reason I am the way I am, making sure I’m not alone, etc.

But at the end of the day, I don’t think I need the comfort or hell even the company of another person for at least a little while.

So when I arrive at the Singer Salvage Yard, I don’t make my way towards the big, old house that belongs to my surrogate father. Instead, I make my way towards the area that I know contains a bunch of Bobby’s pet projects. Rumsfeld is laying on the hood of one of the older, beyond repair cars, and as I walk up, he lifts his head and jumps down so I can pet him.

“Hey buddy,” I say as I rub his head playfully. “Don’t say anything, okay?”

He tries to follow me as I walk closer to the building, but his chain stops him, and he whimpers quietly. I give him an apologetic glance before continuing on my way.

I spot a 1993 Jeep Grand Cherokee that honestly looks too beat up and old to be only just over 10 years old. It’s got a new coat of navy blue paint on it to try and hide all the dents and scratches underneath. Kinda reminds me of a woman putting make-up over a facial blemish.

I don’t hesitate as I make my way over to the garage that Bobby seems to close at night and grab the keys out of the cabinet that houses all of the cars that still somewhat function in the place.

I throw my stuff in the back seat and make my way to the front and pray that the car started and doesn’t stall, alerting Bobby to my presence. But it appears that luck just isn’t on my side as of late because the car does exactly what I don’t want it to do.

The engine continues to stutter time after time as I turn the key in the ignition. I know the car is making too much noise because I hear the sound of a screen door slam open and then close and a gruff voice call out.

“You must be a goddamn idjit if you think you’re gonna steal one of my cars.”

I can hear the sound of footsteps quickly making their way towards me. I know if he reaches me he won’t shoot me with the shotgun he likely grabbed out of the office on his way out, but I also know that if he reaches me, it’ll all be over.

“Come on. Come on. _Please.”_

It must be the magic word because just after the last syllable has passed my lips, the car comes to life.

“Yes!” I call out in excitement and relief, but I don’t take any more time out to do more than that.

I put the car in gear and make my way around stacks of cars and past Rumsfeld who is now barking excitedly. As I am almost back to the gate, I hear a gunshot off to my right and turn to see Bobby quickly making his way in front of me to cut me off, but I don’t stop. _I can’t stop now._

He aims his gun at the front windshield of the Jeep and goes to pull the trigger, but the closer the car gets the more recognition occurs to him. He moves out of the way as the car zooms past him, the two of us making eye contact temporarily before I speed back through the gates of the lot, a feeling of guilt settling in the pit of my stomach.

As I make my way to the road, my phone rings in my pocket _–I turned off the GPS at the bus station in Palo Alto, so I didn’t have to worry about being tracked –_ and I take it out to see Bobby’s name flashing across my screen.

The feeling of guilt swells immensely as I toss the phone out of the car and into the grass as I drive down the road to the highway.

* * *

 

I don’t know how far I drive or for how long. I arrived in Sioux Falls sometime around noon which means that I left not too longer after that, and the sun is long gone by now, having set a few hours after I crossed the Minnesota/Wisconsin border. I only stop a few times for gas, to pee, and to grab a 20oz Red Bull to keep me awake for a few hundred more miles. Other than that, I keep going East on I-90 until I reach Chicago.

I don’t stay long, just long enough for me to find a decent motel that doesn’t cost $250 a night, grab enough to eat so that I no longer look like the walking dead, and sleep for a day and a half.

When I arrive, the sun is just beginning to peak over the horizon, causing the sky to clash in a kaleidoscope of colors. Reds, oranges, and even some purples color the sky like water paint. Sam and I used to watch the sunrise and sunset years ago. I would be so memorized at the sight and the rare time I got to spend alone with my brother, and now that fact makes me avoid looking at the sky as I go about my business.

By the time I leave the following afternoon, I’m not as tired and continue to push down I-90.

* * *

 

Somewhere between Indianapolis and Cincinnati, I realize that I need to pick a destination before I hit the coast. I could just stay in motels, but I don’t want to keep moving, and eventually, the money Ellen gave me for working at the Roadhouse is going to run out, and I can’t see myself hustling pool forever. I’m far enough away when I reach this point that I don’t have to worry about anyone catching up to me anytime soon. Unless my dad puts out an all hunters bulletin for me, which is unlikely, but not impossible.

He would want to keep this in the family for the time being before he turned to other hunters – _strangers._ Speaking of hunters…

Not too far from the Virginia border in the mountains, there is a hunter’s cabin. A safe house. Most hunters have them, or they know someone who does, just in case they ever to drop off the grid or just need a place to relax and recover. A female hunter who my dad, brother, and I met recently owns one just outside Galax, Virginia.

We worked a ghoul case with her and Dad saved her ass when she underestimated how many there were. As a token of her gratitude, she gave him her phone number in case be ever needed her help, and the address to all of her safe houses in case he needed a break or help. Apparently, that was a big deal for her because only she and three other hunters knew the locations of these safe houses. You can’t trust every hunter you come across. Everyone has their own motives and agendas, so most of the time you can’t put all your faith in them. She really had to trust Dad to give him that information.

The day she gave him the information, I swiped one of the addresses the following night just in case something like this happened because the idea has been in my head for a while. Luckily for me, the address I swiped was just where I needed it to be.

It’s pitch black outside when I get to the cabin, the moon and the Jeep headlights being the only sources od light for miles. There is a code I need to enter into the gate so that I can get in, and I have to open the door so I can see the keys and piece of paper said code is on.

When the gates open, I drive through on a long dirt road for about five minutes before there is light on each side of the road, almost like the lights on the edge of a runway. They lead me up to the cabin, and my jaw drops at what I see.

I’ve never been inside a place this luxurious before. Sure I’ve seen mansions and some nice looking cabins in passing, but I’ve never been inside, and none of those places were half as beautiful as this.

Angelina _– the hunter this place belongs to –_ must have been loaded before she became a hunter because I’m pretty sure I remember her saying her other safe houses were all fairly the same. God, I can only wonder what the other places look like.

For the time being, I park in front of the cabin, though I can see the silhouette of a building not too far off that looks like it could be a garage. I grab my bags out of the backseat and make my way to the front door. This door has a keypad as well, and when I punch in the same code from the gate. I open the door and am met with a living room fit for such a luxurious cabin as this.

I walk through the place, going room to room, inspecting the area. Somehow the lights come on by themselves, automated most likely. In the kitchen, I am taken aback by how straight out of a catalog it looks. I also notice that the fridge is fully stocked, as well as the pantry.

“She or one of the other hunters must have been here recently,” I say absentmindedly as I notice how distant the expiration dates are on the nonperishables. “Someone must come here often.” _Hope my being here isn’t going to be a problem._

Leaving the kitchen, I look around and find a few bedrooms downstairs as well as a large office/library space which can only be what I assume is for lore and research. I’ll have to come back down here in the morning and investigate more in depth.

I make my way up the stairs to the balcony, and I notice more rooms.

I pick one of the bedrooms at the far end of the upper level and drop my duffle on a chair in the corner by the window, my computer bag/backpack having been left in the library.

It’s not actually until I strip down to my black tank top and matching boyshorts and fall into bed that I realize just how tired I am. Because when my head hits the pill, I’m out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So in the coming chapters I’m gonna need you guys’ help in choosing how the story progresses. I’m not going to go too much into detail at the moment because I need to type up the options, but I’m gonna do a poll for it soon. As always, R&R, please. Continuing being great guys!


	9. First Heartbreak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader takes a trip down memory lane that makes her realize that being alone in the cabin might not have been the best idea. But will someone from her past convince her otherwise?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EMERGENCY A/N: READ THE A/N AT THE END OF THE CHAPTER. IT IS IMPARITIVE TO THE FATE OF THE STORY.
> 
> The journal entries in this chapter are not all of the entries the reader wrote about. As time goes on, there will be more that tie into future chapters, I just chose ones that followed past events that you guys have already heard about, and some that go along with this chapter or the next one.
> 
> Song Title: Loosely based off First Heartbreak by Tori Kelly. If you have ever heard the song, you’ll figure that out. The title is basically symbolism for what the reader has gone through and the source of her pain.
> 
> BTW: There are always GIFs and pictures for each chapter that you can either see on wattpad or Tumblr.

For the first little while, I keep myself as composed as I can. The first day, naturally, I explore the rest of the cabin to see what there is to see. First I find out that the places is a lot bigger and has a lot more to do than I first thought. Apparently, there is an indoor swimming pool on the bottom floor across the hall from a home theater. I really underestimated Angelina’s wealth and creativity before. She really goes all out on her safe houses. _More like resort to me._

I also find an armory with a plethora of guns, knives, bottles of what I think is holy water, and an endless supply of ammo. It almost seems like she was trying to prepare for the end of the world. The Apocolypse, I would be so bold to say if I hadn’t know something like that was bound to never happen. Who would be dumb enough to start something like that, monsters or humans?

Over the next couple weeks, I start my day with a swim before going to the library to do my final few online classes, then research some to see if there are any hunts near me in order to stay sane and keep up a regular routine. I don’t know if I should be happy or disappointed when my searches turn up fruitless, so my studies keep me occupied for the time being. A part of me actually misses the assholes from all the schools we used to go to.

After my brother had left us, we didn’t have to worry about staying in a town longer than mandatory for a hunt. I didn’t have to worry about getting up at a particular time every day _– besides the designated times Dad had Dean and I get up for morning training._ I didn’t have to worry about getting adjusted to a new school or being deemed the school’s new freak.

Life wasn’t perfect, but it was a weight off my shoulders, especially since I didn’t have to experience all the same things as my brothers when they were my age in school.

The only good thing I know I’ll miss about going to public school is that I’ll never get to experience a lot of the best things about school like them too. Like I’ll never get to go to senior prom; that;s just a few short months away too. I won’t be able to formally compete for valedictorian, something I’m close to being online, but it’s not the same. I’ll never get a shot at a high school sweetheart _– someone that isn't a member of my family –_ who would make me forget my first heartbreak. Someone who I might’ve felt comfortable enough to share my first time with.

But most of that doesn’t bother me anymore. Sure, when I was in my sophomore year I dreamed of what I would get to do during my senior year like most people. Senior skip day and senior prank day were the most anticipated for me because of Sam and Dean’s.

For Dean’s senior prank,  he went into the principle’s office and took out all the bolts and screws in his desk and put superglue in his chair. I was still in middle school at the time, but Mr. Maclock had a habit of sitting on his desk during morning announcements on TV, and Dean got me a video; the way the man fell when the desk collapsed underneath him was HI-larious because he wasn’t a small man.

We were out of town before he was able to pinpoint it back to Dean _–not that he ever had a doubt Dean wasn’t the culprit. He didn’t have any definitive proof that pointed to my brother._ He was always causing trouble at every school he went to, with the girls or teachers sometimes both, all in one, but he loved to fuck with that particular principle for some reason.

Then there was Sam’s senior skip day. We were staying in Howell Township, New Jersey at the time; Dad and Dean had been hunting a pack of werewolves with another group of hunters because apparently, this particular pack had over 30 wolves in it. After Dad and Dean had left after dropping me off at Howell High, Sam came back to get me in the Impala _– the oldest Winchesters having ridden with some of the other hunters; let me tell you, Dean almost killed Sam when he found out he had been driving what we all know was his future ‘Baby’ –and chose to take me to Six Flags: Great Adventure._

Because it was so close to summer vacation and graduation for the senior class of 2002, the park was hot and packed, but I didn’t mind. We got to ride every ride in the park, not something everyone can say they’ve done, plus Kingda Ka, twice. It was one of those rare days that we could be a couple without the fear of someone recognizing us _–e.i Dad and Dean._ There was a photo booth, and we were the clique couple that went in and took goofy pictures. On the last one, I kissed him, the rush of the day overtaking me, and it had to be my favorite picture of all. Both of us got a copy of the strip, and to this day I keep mine in a journal I write in because I wanted it to be something I could keep close to me without the fear that Dad or Dean might see it. By the end of the day, we exhausted beyond belief, and both Dean and Dad chewed us out for vanishing without telling them, but it was the best day of my life.

The more I think about it now, Sam probably did that on purpose, knowing that it would be the last time the two of us would spend that kind of time together for a while. _If ever again._

I should have seen it coming. How excited he was when he got me out of AP Calculus. His smile was broad and genuine, but there was something else there that I couldn’t pinpoint at the time. But now I realize it was sadness, _guilt_ even. When he spoke, his words held so much joy and happiness though; it was contagious. I pushed that hidden emotion to the back of my mind because I thought it was nothing and that Sam was just happy that the two of us didn’t get to spend enough time together, and that we finally were.

It was always Sam, Dean, and I when Sam started his senior year. Dad didn’t do that intentionally, there just seemed to be so many more hunts and so much going on that the time, like all the monsters decided that that was the time to come out and do whatever they felt like. Sometimes Dean would leave Sam and I to help Dad with the tougher hunts, not that either of us minded, and they would both be gone from a few days to a few weeks at a time. Rarely would they call Sam out to help, and when it did happen it was _sporadic,_ and one of them would be back to check on me every night.

January of 2002, the January Sam left, things slowed down, and Dad and Dean were around more than ever it seemed. Almost to the point where we were all annoyingly close in our small, cramped motel rooms. So when Sam offered to take me out for a little while on a date to one of the best amusement parks in the country, I was out of my seat and halfway to the office before Mrs. Brooks even got my whole name out through the intercom system.

That all feels like a lifetime ago now, almost three years in May. When I take my journal out of my bag and look at the strip of pictures Sam and I took at Six Flags, I look at our happy, smiling faces, the faces of a couple who planned to be together forever, sealed with a kiss that promised just as much and so much more. At that point, I realize that was a lifetime ago and the good times only last so long. People eventually have to grow up and move onto greener pastures and more beautiful, more practical relationships. But some are stuck in the past, living in the happiness of a past long forgotten.

I don’t realize I’m crying until my tears hit the photos in my hands, but I don’t stop them or try to be strong this time. I just let them fall until the pain in my chest goes away.

* * *

 

What was I thinking? This pain is never going away. It’s been with me for too long. It’s a part of me. That part of me that just can’t seem to let him go. And I _can’t_ let him go. I just have to keep moving, doing things to help take my mind off him. _Huh, how well has that worked in the past?_

I continue with the same routine of schoolwork and research during this time until my classes end, and with online classes being different from on-campus classes, they are over in January as opposed to May or June like most traditional high schools. When this happens, I don’t know what to do with my newfound free time.

I walk around the cabin aimlessly most of the time, not knowing what to do with myself until I can’t anymore and choose to wander the surrounding woods. I discover a lake about a half mile from the cabin, and I know this is going to be the place I spend my time from now on.

Something about the place feels, _I don’t know,_ light? It doesn’t make me feel better per say. I guess it’s just being in a new place. Don’t get me wrong, the cabin is huge and beautiful with so much to do, but I don’t feel like any of those walls, rooms with TVs with cable that I never turn on _– not even just the basic channels either_ – or the seemingly endless supply of both lore and pleasure books in the library can make me forget the pain I feel.

I’ve been here for almost five months now; it’s getting around the time for warm weather clothes, so hours spent at the lake get longer and longer. I don’t do anything for the longest while I’m there either. I get up, maybe take a shower, then go down to the water _– I choose to give up searching for new hunts as well as swimming a while ago because I don’t feel the need to anymore –_ maybe with an apple or something.

While I am there, I find myself looking out at the water from my position on the beach, just watching as if something amazing would happen. The most entertainment I find there comes when ducks or geese swarm over the water, fighting over whatever breakfast they find. Whenever that isn't happening, I get lost in my thoughts about my past, the things I’ve tried so damn hard to push away, trying to imagine they never happened. Sometimes I’m not fazed by these thoughts, others I can’t help sobbing at the beauty and tragedy known as my past.

Eventually, when the emotions are so tangled and indistinguishable from one another, I realize that this feeling is somewhat similar to something I felt when I was younger. I was scared and confused with everything I was going through with school and my feelings for Sam that I needed to emit some of those pent up and jumbled emotions without anyone else being affected or knowing. So I took some of the money that Dad left for the three of us when he went on a hung and bought myself a journal.

I haven't felt the desire to write in a while. Not with everything going on in the past few years. I use to write in it all the time when my family was whole; I practically wrote something own every day. Typical journal stuff.

_April 1, 1997_

_Dear Diary,_

_Sammy and I came up with this hilarious prank for Dad and Dean. We found this practical jokes store and bought stickers that mimic scratches to put on Baby. We waited until last night, when they were both sleeping, then went out to “decorate” her. It was so funny, and the looks on their faces was priceless. They thought someone did it trying to break in or one of Dean’s past flings had caught up with him somehow. When they saw Sammy and I cracking up when we called out “April Fools”, they really lost their marbles. I honestly thought they were gonna kill us ‘til we took off the stickers. Now we have to wash the Impala for the next year, but it was totally worth it. Best. Prank. Ever._

_…_

_March 30, 1999_

_Dear Diary,_

_Sammy and I had our first kiss today. Not a platonic, sibling kisses. It was like one of those kisses that you see in those romantic movies when the boy and girl stare lovingly into each other’s eyes before leaning into each other’s lips as the music reaches crescendos. That’s it felt when he started kissing back anyway because it was technically an accidental kiss, but whatever. I was scared out of my mind that he was gonna hate me forever for my feelings towards him, but he actually felt the same. Can you believe that? My brother actually feels the same feelings for me. Most brothers wouldn’t be able to look at their sisters if they said something like that to them, but not my Sammy. We spent about an hour making out last night before we fell asleep in each other’s arms. We sleep in the same bed most of the time, but this was different. And Sam said we could do it all again whenever we wanted to, as long as Daddy and Dean weren't there, for obvious reasons, and man do I plan on doing that again. God, life is looking brighter every day._

_…_

_April 15, 2002_

_Dear Diary,_

_I’ve never had so much fun in my whole life. Sam took me to Six Flags today. On a date! OMG! We didn’t have to keep our not so, sibling-like glances to ourselves as well as our hands. I mean we held hands a lot before, but everyone knew it didn’t mean anything. Today, everyone who saw us immediately knew we were a couple. We could act like a real couple, eating cotton candy and drinking milkshakes and all that cliché stuff Dean likes to act like he doesn’t like. Even a cheesy set of pictures in one of those classic photo booths. At first, I thought something was off with Sammy and haven't really thought about it until now, but then we got to the park and had the time of our lives. Guess I was just paranoid because everything seemed so perfect and amazing, beyond amazing, today. Best freaking day ever._

_…_

_December 15, 2002_

_Dear Diary,_

_I don’t know what to think right now. Sammy told me he would be back for me around Thanksgiving at the earliest, but he hasn’t so much as called. I knew he might not be there directly at Thanksgiving, he said as much, but when my birthday past in these past few weeks and he didn’t call or send me a letter or something, I was deeply discouraged. I try and call and text his phone as often as I can, but he never answers or replies. I’m going to keep hope alive that he’s coming back for me, but as the days pass, hope seems harder and harder to hold onto._

_…_

_May 3, 2003_

_Dear Diary,_

_I tried to call him again yesterday to wish him a happy birthday, a courtesy h didn’t even consider for me, but the operator said the number was no longer in service. My first thought was that the concept was crazy. I’ve been texting him for months to check on him, but the next was that he never answered those calls or texts or even gave a sign that he would. Maybe this was his way of telling me to fuck off. Well, you know what? Screw him and his dream life. Screw his promises at a normal life for the both of us. I shouldn’t have even opened myself up to the idea of something so perfect. With my life, that was never a realistic dream. When he kissed me goodbye in Mesa, I should have known he was saying goodbye forever. Well, I’m gonna give him exactly what he wants. He’ll never see me again. Fuck you, Sammy._

That was a long time ago, well almost two years actually. I was so angry at him for betraying me. For lying. For _leaving me behind._ Around that same time, I started hunting with Dad and Dean. I needed the distraction, and they needed the extra set of hands. I don’t actually know how long it took for them to realize that wasn’t true.

They didn’t need me. Not really. They needed to get their minds right and not get killed in the meantime. I was that window of opportunity. I was only helping them buy time until they could become the hunters we all knew they were, _before Sam._ I don’t even know why I kid myself.

My family has never needed me. I’m the one Winchester child that was never planned. Most would say that I’m just being insecure and ridiculous, but what if I said that I heard those words directly from my father’s mouth? Still, think I’m being insecure or ridiculous?

This was back when Sam and I both stayed at Bobby’s while Dad and sometimes Dean went out on hunts for long periods of time. Dad had just gotten back from a solo hunt. It was like three in the morning, so he had decided that he would let us sleep ‘til dawn before we headed out.

None of us knew he was there, so when I woke up in the middle of the night and heard his voice, I immediately got out of bed, careful not to wake up my brother whom I still slept with from time to time _– I still had to be eleven at the time –_ and made my way downstairs.

I could hear their hushed whispering get clearer and clearer as I made my descent.

“…appened to us. (Y/N) was never supposed to have been born, and after hunts like that, I regret keeping her because of this life we lead. She won’t survive without her brothers and I, and that terrifies me.” I could hear the couch crunch under his weight when Dad sat down.

“Listen to me John Winchester, that little girl is stronger than you give her credit for. Possibly even stronger than you and your boys _because of_ the things in the life you chose for you all. Don’t ever let her hear you say something like that. She looks up to you and your boys, but you especially because she sees you as the hero every little girl sees her father as. Don’t ruin that and get those thoughts out of your head. What would Mary say if she heard you say something like that about her baby girl?” Bobby scolded harshly, always quick to defend my brothers and I.

But I didn’t really pay attention to anything Bobby had said, so caught up in what my dad had said. I had so many thoughts running through my head at that time. _Did my father not want me? Did he really regret having me? Keeping me after Mom died? How long had he felt like this? What could I do?_

Eventually, I got up, having tuned out the rest of their conversation as I sat on the stairs in shock and with tears in my eyes. When I got back to Sam’s room, I wrapped myself around him, wanting to feel safe and warm after hearing something so cold and discouraging from someone who I was never supposed to feel like this about. There was no one in the world who could do that better than Sam.

I never told him or anyone about what I heard that night. I didny even write about it because  I just wanted to forget. I looked at my father differently after that and noticed that he had a look in his eyes whenever he looked at me too. He was scared for me, I know, but I could also see the regret for what I now know was caused by my existence as a whole. And I _hated_ it.

When I went to Bobby’s from then on, I trained longer and harder, and I knew Bobby knew something was up with me, but he never pushed me to tell him. And I never wanted to. I wanted to give my father a reason to want and need me, even if he didn’t know what I could do. I knew that eventually, I would get the chance to, and I did. In the time between Sam leaving and seeing him again, my father was proud of me. Of what I could do, but at that point, it didn’t matter to me anymore.

Eventually, I stopped caring and trying. Sam made me feel loved and wanted and needed. He made me forget about all the problems and insecurities I had about Dad. And that lasted for a good two years before he decided that he wanted to go to college and live out his normal life, alone. All of my emotions from then on were based off my feelings for Sam, even if I told myself otherwise. He made me stronger as a hunter, but weaker as an ordinary girl. But at the end of the day, those girls were the same person and weakness in one reflected in the other.

It makes me think that maybe those feelings I had so long ago, and Dad's words were true. I’m the outsider in this family. I’m the little girl who needs her brothers and father to help her through her problems and keep her together.

I can’t remember the last time I ate something or did something productive. Dean would be on my ass, force feeding me if he were here. Dad would scold me for how messy the place is. Books thrown all over the library, dishes from the last time I ate with food that is turning colors and emitting smells that food shouldn’t turn or smell like in the sink, and all in someone else’s place. Sam would be the one focusing on my current state of mind, and it’s not until April that I realize how much I miss and need them all.

I need them. I don’t know how to do this without them, and I haven't put in the effort to really try and figure it out.

God, I don’t want to be alone anywhere, but I made my choice in Palo Alto to be alone and abandoned my family. That makes me just as bad as, if not worse than, Sam. I could never face them now because I know that if I did, I’d see the same sadness and disappointment in their eyes the night he left.

I can’t live like that. _With that._ My family has never been too forgiving when it comes to leaving or disappearing for a prolonged period of time. For any reason. I know Dean has never truly gotten over Dad leaving all those times when we were younger. Hell, he still kind of holds grudges now. So did Sam and so do I.

I also know that my father, brother, and I haven’t _– and probably never will –_ forgive Sam for leaving us the way he did. At this point in time, since I’ve left without a trace in a way worse than Sam, my family probably hates me. They probably blame themselves first and foremost, but at the end of the day, I know that they hate me for what I did. Putting them through this pain again.

Hell, I hate me for doing that to them. I wasn’t thinking clearly when I left, and now it’s too late to change things.

I’m miserable here, and sometimes I wish I could start over. Go back to the way it was before he left. The family moving around from place to place; all of us together and as happy as we once were.

That’s what I wanted when Sam told me he was leaving. That’s what I wanted after the year he was gone. That’s what I want _now._ But right now I’m just _sad._ I just it all to go away and for it all to be over.

A part of me just wants to end it. I’ve walked into the kitchen before and just stared at the knives for hours, imagining what it would be like to slit my wrists while I lay in the bathtub. Hell, I took a knife with me one day and just held onto it, but then I thought about the hassle it would be for someone else to clean everything up. I’m not doing that to someone else. Hunters might be warriors in their own right, but no one was built to handle something like that.

So I write instead. Every time I feel like I can’t do this by myself, I write down what I’m feeling. Every thought, every emotion, _everything._ It doesn’t cure my illness, but it relieves some of the pain and pressure. I write about my past with Sam, my feelings towards my family, all the pain, but also all the good. Dreams and wishes.

I write about my dad most of all. You’d think my thoughts and emotions would be mostly Sam based, but my dad is part of the cause. He’s the reason our lives are the way they are _– I don’t mean that negatively by the way –_ he’s the reason Bobby had to give us all semblance of a normal life. But he’s also the reason Sam and I got together. Most of what’s happened ‘til now is because of him. And even though I was a major bitch to him after Sam left, I don’t hate him. I love him so much, and I wish I knew he felt the same because he is just as much a victim as the rest of us.

So I write about what it would be like if Mom never died. Birthdays, father-daughter dances, everything that I would have had if that thing hadn’t made the hardass soldier he had to become. But I can dream. It’s what I’ve had to do since I was a little girl. The only way I can begin to believe in happiness.

* * *

 

I spend nine months alone. Halloween, my birthday, Christmas, but I send Dean a post card I got in Nebraska to him for his birthday. I watch the seasons change from fall to winter to spring and eventually summer. All of it alone. I don’t go to the lake anymore because I barely get out of bed. On the rare chance that I do, I either sit in one of the chairs in my bedroom and stare out the window, or I sit on the couch in the living room and do the same.

I don’t talk to anyone outside the grocer at the store a few miles from the cabin. She tries to be friendly and get me to converse with her, but I never do. I barely smile at her, yet she always has something nice to say. I don’t think much of her because I don’t pay much attention to anything nowadays.

I don’t even notice the familiar vibe I had whenever I was around someone close to me or in my family until it’s almost unbearable. It’s around this time that I hear a knock on the cabin door. Hunter’s instincts tell me to grab my gun, but the feeling in my stomach tells me that I don’t need it. I just need whoever is on the other side of that door.

I pull my cardigan all the way over myself even though it has to be nearly 85 degrees and take a deep breath before going to unlock and open the door. When I do so, I’m with a face I didn’t think I’d ever see again.

“How did you find me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I’m doing a poll that will determine the fate of the next few chapters of this story. I’ve been thinking about this for a while, and each option works for me, but each has pros and cons that I will explain. After this chapter, there is one more before the series premiere which the reader is not in. You all determine what I do directly after the events of the pilot episode. BTW, when picking an option, just keep in mind that the climax of the story isn’t until after the season three finale. The option that is chosen at the end of the poll will be explained in further detail when chosen. Also, the poll is in my bio on fanfiction.net, so if you can, vote there, otherwise leave it in the comments or send me a PM.
> 
> Option 1: I can do a series rewrite. This means exactly what it sounds like. My ideas take the Winchesters all the way up to the season three finale, unchanged and with the reader. Everything after that changes. Basically, all you will be seeing is the reader’s POV for each episode. Occasionally I might change it up to Sam or Dean or someone else in the episode’s POV, but nothing really changes. The pros are that you can see everything that happens step by step. How the relationships with the reader and the boys evolve over time, how the reader reacts to different events throughout each episode, and some fillers that I will have to put in to allot for time for the Winchesters between episodes. The cons to this option are the fact that the story itself will not start back up for 60 episodes minimum. That’s two to three chapters for each, which means between 120 to 180 chapters plus a handful of fillers before the story that I intend to finish will be back on track. All of that is background info for events and clues that follow the season finale and may contribute to the rest of the story but probably won’t make a huge difference at the end of the day. This option means that the audience will be caught up in everything that happens between seasons one and three with the reader and her brothers.
> 
> Option 2: I can rewrite a few episodes from each season. Just the most important, plus some fillers from the show. So the season premieres and finales would get their own chapters, episode changers for a whole season, etc. For this particular option, after the story really starts back up, I might do a side series that is connected to this story that goes back and shows brief glimpses of what happened for each episode. The chapters probably won’t be longer than you average drabble, maybe more, but most of what happens between seasons one and three that aren't explained in detail will be explained after the finale. At least the parts that are valuable for that chapter. The pro for this option is the fact that the story will be back on track after a handful of chapters with a little déjà vu from the series. The con is the fact that the audience probably won’t get to see how the reader’s relationship with her brothers changes, only the output, which may be confusing as the story goes on, but will get cleared up in time.
> 
> Option 3: This option basically consist of a quick summary of seasons one and two from the reader’s POV. It would basically be like the past few chapters where the reader talks about how being back with her brothers is affecting her, how she handles major events, etc. It would be a chapter or two, so we’d be back on schedule soon. That’s one of the pros, the other is that the flow of the story doesn’t change. It would be the same as the past few chapters so there wouldn’t be an adjustment period for the story getting back on track. The only con that I can think of would be the same as for the second option. The audience would miss a lot of what happens in the time between the season premiere and the season three finale. But again, everything would come back into focus as the story goes on. This option also works with the whole side series idea in chapter two. It would make it easier for you all to understand. 
> 
> The thing about option one though is that you have to pay attention later because some of the small easy to miss details will come back to play a part. For options two and three, if you haven't seen the series in a minute, or ever, you might want to rewatch it, but that isn't mandatory. If anyone has any questions, comments, or concerns with these options, you can send me a PM or leave a comment in this chapter or the next depending on what happens first, the poll going up or the next chapter.
> 
> BTW:There are several more diary entries that the reader has both before and after Sam left that I might get back to later, but I wanted to tell y'all because the time jumps between each entry is so far apart and I said she wrote almost every day. There is more but this is just what she chose to read due to the significance.


	10. Good Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader gets help getting back to the person she once was and there is a family reunion on the horizon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I think a week went by before I noticed that in the previous chapter I didn’t put up a deadline for the poll. I think my original thought process was a month to make sure everyone got their votes and opinions and questions in, but because I didn’t clarify and because I need some to get my head together with the next couple of chapters, I’m gonna say August 31 will be the final day to put in votes. I know that’s a long time to wait, especially without an update in so long, but I need to make sure everything is in order and that I meet my requirements for the rest of the story. As always, if you have comments, questions, concerns, or anything else, just let me know. Enjoy…
> 
> Song title: This chapter is based off the song Good Enough by Evanescence for reasons that are explained in the first chunk of this chapter and have been explained in some detail in previous chapters. You’ll understand when you start reading.
> 
> BTW: There are always GIFs and pictures for each chapter that you can either see on wattpad or Tumblr.

“How did you find me?” I ask though I knew he had been here for a while, and it’s kinda hard to believe that he is here.

He doesn’t do what I expected him to do. I expected him to start yelling at me about how stupid and dangerous what I did was. For him to scold me on how there were hunts that could have been solved and people who could have been saved with all the time it took him to look for me. Maybe throw something with the famous Winchester temper. But he doesn’t do any of that. What he does actually surprises the hell out of me.

“I missed you baby girl.” He says, pulling me into this bone crushing hug that feels so warm and emits more love than I have ever known him to show. It makes me realize just how much I’d missed him too.

“I missed you too Daddy,” I say with tears streaming steadily down my face.

* * *

 

Dad acts entirely out of character but at the same time just like himself the first little while that he’s here. He avidly checks to make sure I’m ok when he pulls away from our hug, patting me down and running a few subtle tests to make sure I’m not hurt or some monster. _Classic Dad._ He also does a minor sweep of the cabin to make sure the place I’ve been living in for the past nine months is safe.

I roll my eyes at that. Like I would have actually stayed here all this time if I knew it wasn’t safe. He taught me better than that. But he doesn’t act like it.

“Where’s Dean?” I move over to the couch as he glances at the sigils all over the kitchen and living room. “And you still haven’t told me how you found me.”

“When your brother and I realized you were gone, we thought that monster had taken you, so we finally tracked down the bastard and killed him. When we realized that he hadn’t taken you, we tried to track your phone, which the GPS was conveniently off for.” He shoots me a look that makes me avoid eye contact. “We got it turned back on though and found it two miles from Bobby’s place. He told us he’d only seen you for a second, weeks after you’d disappeared and had stolen one of his cars. After that, Dean and I split up so we could cover more ground. We knew there weren’t many people you trusted, so I called them all.”

By this time, Dad had come to sit on the loveseat across from me. Apparently satisfied with what he’d made of the sigils, he had grabbed a beer for him and a water for me from the fridge, taking a sip before continuing.

“I ran through the names relatively fast, none of them having heard of you, so I figured you wouldn’t have gone to anyone because you knew they’d tell me where you were. I was stumped for about a week, Dean not having heard from you either. Then it dawned on me. You just needed a stable place, not with people necessarily. So I checked my list of safe houses as far away from California as possible because you would want us to take a while checking the other states looking for you.Three of them were on the East Coast. One in Lincolnton, North Carolina, one in Deloniga, Georgia, and this one. Didn’t think I knew about this place huh?”

I must have a shocked or confused look on my face due to his question. Yeah, I stole this address off his list to make sure he wouldn’t find me. So how did he?

“I remembered all the states and addresses Angelina gave me (Y/N), and I called her to confirm that this one existed. What you did was smart, but not clever enough. I’ll always find you (Y/N), you and your brothers. It’s my job to protect you all and keep you safe and together as a family. Even if you don’t want me to.”

The isolation I have had from most people, especially my father, must not have been the best for me because I can feel myself getting angrier and angrier at his words. Usually, I can handle most of the things my dad says because I am with him and hear it regularly, but not now. I’ve spent too much time away from him, and now it doesn’t take much to set me off.

What the hell was he even talking about?

“You wanna keep us safe and _together?_ How well is that going for you right now Dad? Because in my opinion, you suck at it. When Sam left, Dean and I went to go make sure he was ok. You ran away to do God knows what God knows where for a whole night. And after that, for months you and Dean got your asses handed to you by literally every monster you faced and were too fucked up in the head with _grief_ to realize that you hadn’t even finished entire hunts. You say you wanna keep us _safe and together_ yet you denied me the chance at training, so I had to do it with Bobby, and you never went to try and remedy things with Sam. How does that keep us _safe and together_ Dad?”

I’m standing over him, yelling because I haven't been this emotional in a while and need to vent.

“I made mistakes in the past (Y/N). Regretable ones. Letting your brother walk away was one and keeping you from the field was another. The time you, Dean, and I spent hunting as a family was a time I spent realizing just how much you needed this to heal and how great you were for the job, with or without the training from Bobby.” He says earnestly, not making a move to stand, knowing how on edge I am at this moment. Winchester temper, remember? Not always just a boy thing. “But I also realized just how lost you were getting in what we were doing and how much of yourself you were losing because of what happened. I started treating you like this was what you needed when it was really what I needed. But I wanna help you now–”

“ _Help me?_ How are you gonna _help me?_ How Dad? Because you have no _idea_ what I’m going through or how I feel right now. I keep beating myself up because I know I’m not him. I’m not strong enough or smart enough b-because I’m n-no-ot him.”

By this point, I’ve fallen to my knees in front of my father, bawling my eyes out at the admission and the fact that I’m tired of being angry and too ashamed to do anything about it.

“I’m sorry I’m not strong enough Daddy. I didn’t mean to disappoint you. I just w-wanted to be good enough. For you and Dean and I just–”

“You are (Y/N). You are not a disappointment, and neither of us is Sam or Dean. I can’t be disappointed in you if you managed to save mine and Dean’s asses time and time again or managed to lose me for nine months or stand up for your brother when I was being too much of a coward to tell him that I was proud of him.”

At this, my head shoots up from its place on his knee to stare at him shockingly through puffy red eyes.

“When I finally got over everything, I started driving by Stanford periodically to check up on him. I wanted to know that he was alright, but also to see him have the life that I always wanted for him. For all of you. I wish I could go back in time and take back what I said, but I don’t know if he would have changed his mind anyway. He was strong in his own way, and so are you. I’m not gonna leave you baby girl. I’m gonna help you get back on your feet like I should have back then.”

“But how?”

He smiles down at me and kisses my forehead.

“One step at a time.”

* * *

 

And he was right. It took me a while to get back to being a fraction of the girl I once was, with his help of course.

At first it was a real struggle to leave my room for breakfast because I was so mentally and emotionally drained.

“(Y/N), you have to eat something. You’ve lost too much weight as it is.” We’re sitting at the breakfast nook in the kitchen. Well I’m sitting. Dad is standing on the other side of the counter with a cup of coffee in his hand and a plate of bacon, eggs, and toast in front of him, same in front of me.

I have to have lost thirty pounds in these past few months up here by myself. I rarely found the urge to eat or drink anything; I didn’t have anyone to force me to until now.

“You don’t have to eat it all if you don’t want to. At least eat the toast and drink the orange juice.” He tells me almost pleadingly, and this is a side of my dad that no one has ever seen. Well I have on occasion, but my father has never been the type to beg for anything from anyone, so I feel a little worse for putting him in this position.

I take small bites of my toast until it’s gone and eat half a piece of bacon with even fewer eggs before picking up my glass of orange juice and heading to my room.

“(Y/N) ple–”

“I just want to get back in bed.” I say without turning around. The litte bit that I ate will likely do me good later on, but at the moment my stomach is churning in the worst way.

Dad doesn’t try to stop me as I go, but I can feel his eyes boring into the back of my head, sadness and grief likely shining in his green eyes. This fact causes tears to well up in my eyes as I close my door, the sound echoing throughout the silent cabin.

* * *

 

Exercise helps, I know. It’s the getting out of bed to do anything that is the problem.

Dad is entirely understanding about this and doesn’t push me to do more than I can at the moment, which is still interesting to me. When I was younger, I used to watch him push Dean past his limits constantly and eventually Sam as well. It’s really weird to have him baby me when he hasn’t shown that he is capable of such a thing in the past.

If only he had been this understanding with Dean, always forcing him out of the motel room at the ass crack of dawn without so much as a cup of coffee to start his day. I know that he was training him to be able to protect not only Sam and I, but also himself, but he was a real hardass most of the time. Those that know him might have a hard time believing that John Winchester would coddle any of his children because they’re having a slight seperation that kept them in bed for weeks at a time.

And they would be right not to believe it because he isnt doing that exactly. Coddling might be too strong a word. Aiding and comforting might work better. At least out loud. He’s encouraging me closer and closer to the door and the outside world, til eventually I get there.

And I can say that being outside again feels _amazing._

For the first few days, we just sit on the porch and listen to nature. The wind blows steadily most of the time, causing my greasy (H/C) hair to blow all over the place. Dad does his best to keep it down but doesn’t succeed, which causes me to laugh.

He laughs too and tells me how happy he is that I’m opening back up, and that makes me smile up at the sky because that makes me happy too.

* * *

 

Over the next few weeks, I attempt to get back in the swing of things. The two of us go running every morning and talk about anything and everything. Dad calls Dean periodically to let him know that I’m ok and to give him his own hunts.

At first, I know that Dean should be aware of where I am and what I’ve been doing because he probably wants to see me for himself, but then I realize that I’m not ready to face him yet and Dad sees this. So he just gives his eldest son periodic updates on my progress and assigns him his own hunts.

One day just after Dad hangs up with Dean, I ask him a question that has been plaguing me for a while.

“So how did you manage to part ways with your beloved Impala?”

He laughs at my question. “ I was wondering how long it would take you to ask.” He looks at his truck out the wall of windows just beyond the kitchen and living room. “Like I said before, Dean and I parted ways to cover more ground in order to find you. He wasn’t taking the bus, and I needed to know he had a reliable ride, so I gave him the Impala and bought myself the truck. I was planning on giving her to him for his twenty-fifth anyway. He just has to take care of her.”

“You know he will. His ‘Baby’ means too much to him. You know he’s been lusting after her since he was like nine. Even I could see that, and I was a three year old. You and Bobby drilled the love of cars into him early. What’d you expect?”

“If only that could’ve worked with you and Sammy–”

I see that he realized his mistake when my brother’s name passes his lips. He learned pretty early on not to mention Sam while we were here _–the first time I said his name for Dad to hear since he left was the day he got here, and that was an accident –_ even before I left. He knows what happened isn’t something I’m just gonna let go anytime soon. The only way that’s gonna happen is if I confront him, and we both know that’s not gonna happen. _Ever._

“It’s fine Dad. I know.” I try to ease his worry as he gazes at me apologetically. I just want to move on now. “So you said you found a hunt before Dean called? What’s that about?”

* * *

 

Dad stays with me until I’m able to work and function well enough by his standards on my own _– not exactly where I was before but damn near it._ We train, go over lore, he took me on a few hunts in the state, and sometimes we just talk. He arrived on a hot and sweaty summer day in July, and he leaves on a cold, frigid day in October, and I _really_ don’t want him to go.

“Do you have to go? Why can’t I come?” I ask as he loads his bags into his truck and turns to face me.

“Because there is a hunt in Texas that Caleb has called me to help him on.”

“Well, I can go with you. Help ou–”

“No,” He says sharply in that ‘not up for discussion’ tone of voice that causes me to shut my mouth instantly. “I need for you to meet up with Dean in a few weeks and who knows how long this hunt is gonna take.”

At the mention of Dean’s name, I look at my father pleadingly, not ready to face my brother yet, but he doesn’t seem to care.

“It’s not up for discussion (Y/N). You still need someone with you, not that I don’t think you can handle yourself, but you and your brother should be together. And besides, he needs help.” He places a hand on my shoulder when my facial expression doesn’t change. “Look, you two have to make amends and work together which is why I’m giving you a few weeks to get yourself together and prepare yourself.”

He pulls me into a hug, and I crush him to myself, desperately not wanting him to go.

“Please don’t leave me,” I say into his chest, my voice wavering slightly.

He kisses my forehead and pulls me back far enough for me to look into his eyes.

“You’ll see me again soon. Talk to your brother (Y/N), it’ll be good for you both. He hasn’t been doing very well in your absence, so he needs this. You don’t have to do it for yourself. Do it for him, and maybe sometime along the way you will find closure too.

* * *

 

Dad’s right. I need to talk to Dean, but I also need to figure out what I’m gonna say. I ask Dad, but he just kissed my forehead once more and got into his truck with a smile, calling, “You’ll figure it out baby girl.”

_So helpful Dad._

That was two weeks ago. I haven’t heard from him since then except for a letter that tells me to head to some town in California. Jeranimo? Jericho? Something like that, but I still don’t move to leave.

I know that Dean will likely be there _– Dad said that I would have to meet up with him in the coming weeks, but I didn’t think it would be so soon –_ and I don’t know what I’m gonna say to him. I should apologize for everything I said the last time I saw him on top of leaving without a trace, but I want him to also. Knowing Dean, he’ll be too proud to do that though. Both of us were in the wrong, and we need to move on, but I don’t know if we’ll be able to.

I love my brother to death and would do anything for him, same vice versa, but I don’t know how this is going to affect our relationship on top of me leaving. Dad was cool with everything that happened between us, but I feel like he’s obligated to forgive me for that because I’m his daughter. Dean, on the other hand, doesn’t have that same obligation.

All these thoughts are running through my mind as I drive the two days to Jericho in the newer version of the Jeep Cherokee that I borrowed from the garage. The whole ride, the butterflies in my stomach, get more and more agitated as I dread the thought that my eldest brother might hate me.

When I arrive in town, I soon come to realize that the case has already been solved. I ask around about strange occurrences and new comers, and I overhear a couple cops talking about how a pair of brothers who had escaped police custody, and me being the nosy Winchester that I am, listen a little closer. Discreetly.

Apparently, two men went missing from town not too long ago who had been arrested for impersonating federal agents and harassing one of the locals. At first, I want to believe that it’s a coincidence, but then one of the officers mentions the name ‘Winchester.'

_Well shit._

Wait, does this mean that Dean went to get Sam from Stanford since Dad and I were MIA? I mean it could be Dad and Dean working together, but they don’t look that similar in age. Not at all actually. Plus Dad would have told me in the letter if he would have been in Jericho when I got here, and I haven't seen any signs of him at all since I’ve been here.

Does that mean that Sam’s hunting again? How long have they been doing that together? Why would Dean do that to him? Why the hell would he even agree?

There are so many thoughts and questions running through my head at the moment that it’s making me dizzy. I rest my head against the steering wheel of the Jeep and trying to catch my breath from the sudden dizzy spell.

“Breathe (Y/N),” I tell myself. “Dean wouldn’t do that to him and he sure as hell wouldn’t agree.” _Would he?_

Dad said that Dean’s been different since I left. What if he was so lonely and scared that he got Sam from school after Dad left too. But what I can’t seem to wrap my head around is why Sam would leave his perfect life with his perfect girl for this? One stupid hunt or God knows how many more. It just doesn’t make sense.

I need to know what’s going on and why even if that means that I have to do something I never imagined myself doing.

So I’m back on the road two hours later to a place I hoped to never see again.

_Stanford University._ If it really was a one-time thing, then that’s where they’re headed.

* * *

 

I’m immediately drawn to the building that’s surrounded by fire trucks and police cars when I arrive. Apparently, there was a fire in one of the buildings recently. Like the fire, hoses are still getting the last of it put out recent.

I roll my window down and ask one of the bystanders what happened.

“One of the student’s apartments caught fire, but the police don’t know how. She apparently didn’t make it out.” The girl seems genuinely distraught by the news. “She was so nice.”

“You know who it was?” I ask, perking up a bit more at the hint of new information.

“Yeah she was in my Lit 104 class. Her poor boyfriend came home after being out on some trip all weekend with his brother I think he said, and arrived just when the fire started. Police ruled him out as a suspect because some of the neighbors saw them leave and go back in right as the fire started. His girlfriend’s name was Jessica Moore, by the way.”

As she speaks, the information sounds too familiar, and when she says Jessica’s name, an intense feeling of grief washes over me. After that, I pretty much zone the girl out.

Jessica was dead? And Sam found her just before their apartment caught fire. That sounds eerily familiar.

At that moment, I see the Impala drive by, Dean in the driver’s seat and Sam likely the dark silhouette next to him in the passenger’s seat with grief just as likely etched onto his face in the shadow of night.

I don’t hesitate as I follow the boys down the road.

* * *

 

They stop at a motel that looks eerily like the one Dean, Dad, and I stayed in the last time I was here. They get out of the car and go into one of the rooms, but I sit there for a while. I’m thinking about everything that could happen if I go up and knock on that door. All of the thoughts end in me either kicked out or someone bleeding badly. Eventually, I clear my mind of those pessimistic thoughts, or at least push them as far back in my mind as they will go which isn’t far but is out of the forefront of my mind, and muster up the courage to get out of the Jeep and walk up to the door I saw them go into not ten minutes ago, knocking on the door firmly.

Not fifteen seconds later, the door swings open revealing my eldest brother with a gun pointed in my face, but I don’t flinch.

“Hi, Dean.”


	11. Coming Soon!

I did not forget about you guys I promise. I have been busier than I have ever been in my entire life in these past few months though that is not really an excuse. I just wanted to let you guys know that the next chapter is coming soon. I have to go back through season 1 to fact check, but I am still continuing this story. In case some of you forgot because it has been a while, the upcoming chapters are gonna be series rewrites for different episodes for a handful of episodes for seasons 1-3 then we get back to the meat and potatoes of the story. Let me know if you have any questions, concerns, interesting facts, etc. Continue to carry on my wayward sons and daughters!

 

And this update will be deleted when the new chapter is posted.

**Author's Note:**

> R&R please!


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